


Faultless

by Ty_R_Bluent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Criminal Dean Winchester, F/M, FBI Agent Castiel, M/M, Marine Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ty_R_Bluent/pseuds/Ty_R_Bluent
Summary: Dean Winchester. A quick-witted lady killer with one hell of a smart mouth. Not to mention his eye for food, cars, and most notably; trouble. Catches the eye of nearly everyone he passes, especially someone with a badge. One of those credentials marked with the name Novak. Undeniably he’s dangerous, rash, and cold.One of the FBI’s most wanted, but they never had enough to pin him down. That is until a string of bodies starts to show up with the initials DW. It’s hard to deny a fact with your name written all over it. Signed in blood.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! Just a reminder this is only a "preview" to Faultless. Kinda an introduction, but I won't be posting full-time until around fall. My summer schedule is just too busy. Also, I'll be adding more tags and characters later. 
> 
> Hope Y'all enjoy!

In the three years he hadn’t seen his brother, this wasn’t how Sam Winchester imagined he’d get back in touch with Dean. Especially not that “insignificant” detail where the reconnection was being monitored.

     _“How you doing, Sammy?”_

Despite the sharp glares watching his every move, Sam rolled his eyes. “C’mon Dean, it’s Sam. Sammy was a chubby twelve-year-old. How many times do I have to say it? I’m in college now.”

     _“Well, some things never change. Speaking of, how’s college goin’?”_

“Classes are great. There are several _Familiars_ that I have to study with.”

     _“That’s why you were always the better student.”_ The table Sam sat at vibrated as one of the men scribbled furiously on a lined notepad and slid it over to him. _“But your study habits explain a lot.”_

Across the pad the words were scribbled in purple sharpie: **_Ask to visit or Get Location._**

    It must have been the most on hand thing they could find in terms of stationary supplies. He wanted to scoff and tell them to go fuck themselves, but Dean would actually come here to kill him if he did. He’d ruin everything just to tell Sam how incredibly  _stupid_ an action like that would be, costing him his many scholarships at Stanford; and however long they wanted him to rot in prison or jail.

    “Jess has been pulling my leg on when you’ll be over here. She really wants to meet you.”

     _“You know I can’t Sammy,”_ Again, with the name. _“I don’t fit well with college Familiars and frat boys.”_

“Then what are you doing right now?”

     _“I_ was  _fixing up my baby before my little nerd brother decided to call me. Couple days ago some jackass decided that he couldn’t control his shit car on a sheet of ice. Ended up hitting a few parked vehicles.”_

The pad was shoved in front of his face: **_Get on with it_ **

**** Sam shot them his best bitch face that spelled out: _then you do it._

He watched them with deep satisfaction when a few of them groaned into their hands.

It’s not like Dean didn’t already  _know_ there were Federal agents breathing down his brother’s neck. Those idiots were just being strung along by now.

    “At least you don’t have long ‘till spring. The ice that bad up there?” The Feds perked up at this.

     _“It’s hell on earth here in good ol’ Alaska. Though it’s better here at Fort Yukon. It was pretty okay back in Chicken last week. I mean, you can’t name a town Chicken without having some fun.”_

Sam chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Dean.”

     _“Anyway, I think I might start North again, maybe even climb a mountain.”_

“Yeah, sure. And Dean?”

     _“Whasup?”_

“ _Actually_ send me a postcard this time.”

     _“Gotcha. Good hearin’ from you Sammy.”_ The inevitable goodbye. Feds listening to his brother's voice for far too long.

“Yeah, yeah. It was good hearing from you too.” His voice dropped off at the end.

 

    When the call ended, Sam pulled the cord attaching his phone that linked to a computer across from him. He knew Dean would be cussing everything out by now. That Ash -whoever he was- would be trying to get him to shut up as he ran a few more things through the system. To be extra sure the Feds didn’t pick up their trail, and a few extra bonuses for when the Agents ran off to the 49th state. It was Dean who had made the no talking rule. That was why Sam was trying to get a burner phone to open up the lines of communication once more. The FBI knocking at his door at 5:40 this morning ruined just about everything. Including any hope of a decent mood.

    Sam kept his eyes downcast, tracing the grain of the table below him. It was also at 5:43 this morning that Federal Agents proceeded to drag Sam from his on-campus apartment, stick him in the back of a cruiser and bring him to the local station. Thank God most of them left the room now. Sam set his face in his hands, fingers threading into the start of his hairline. To anyone, it looked as if he was drowning in guilt for betraying his brother. No, he knew Dean would be fine. Contrary to popular belief, Dean was actually pretty fucking sharp. Sam at this moment was overwhelmed with grief. A deep-settling despair for his, and his brother's lives. That this event even had to take place. That it was even a _possibility_.

    Like always, he’d call Bobby after. But that came later. When there were no more Feds in the room to overhear his personal life.

    “You should be proud, Samuel.” The only lingering Agent stepped behind him.

    Sam hated this bastard the most.

    “You’ve done your country a favor,” Agent Henriksen continued. “You’ve served her well.”

    He couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. Sam’s fist met the table with an echoing  _bang_. “No, no I didn't. _Dean_ served this country. You Feds are ridiculous, upholding the ‘thank the service men and women’ and here you are. You’re hunting a Marine.”

    “Two  _ex_ -Marines. That's if you count daddy dearest, of course.” Victor Henriksen leaned in close. Uncomfortably close. “And if you’ve forgotten, murderer’s aren't protected by the US Marines. SEALS won't back him either. Or Airforce. Navy, Army. Hell the National Guard won't touch your brother with a ten-foot pole.”

    “They never  _proved_ that,” Sam croaked in exasperation.

    “Dishonorable discharge is proof enough in my case.” This guy just  _wouldn't_ give it a rest. “Besides, I thought you and your brother weren't getting along?”

     _No contact doesn't mean that, you pushy son of a bitch_. It took self-control that Sam was slowly losing to hold the comment in.

    “Bonnie and Clyde were turned in by someone they trusted, maybe even considered family.” Henriksen stepped to the side of the table so he was in Sam’s line of sight. He set his hands on the wood. “Did you hear that he was found with the bodies of the platoon he was in charge of?”

    “That doesn't mean _anything_.” Sam cried. He dropped his head into his large hands once more.

    “Criminals like your brother have been brought in for less. Hell, Capone was arrested for not paying his taxes.”

    “How are you even comparing my brother to a mobster and two romantic outlaws?”

    “How are you not?” Victor rounded the table, staring straight on at Sam from the other side. “You brother is unfit for our society, Samuel, just like Al Capone. He’s a tough bastard to catch, but he’s no special case. He  _will_ trip up, and when he does,” Henriksen leaned over, getting his face up close to Sam’s. “I'll be there to watch him burn.” Satisfied, Agent Henriksen backed up. His grin reminded Sam of a prowling wolf that knows its prey has no hope. Nowhere to run. A grin that came with the thrill of a chase.

    Sam kept his mouth shut.

    Victor nodded, grin still plastered on his face. He turned sharply and made his way to the door.

    “But there's always one thing that people forget about Capone,”

    “What’s that?” Henriksen turned, hand still wrapped around the knob.

    Sam glared up at the mountain of a man. Henriksen just didn’t understand who the bigger man in the room was. “Capone had it out for the mobs that did him wrong.”

    Maybe, just maybe they weren't talking about Al Capone and the prohibition at all. Either way, Henriksen wasn't walking off.

    “The little grannies that walked into the auto shops to hand their husbands' lunch, received nothing but respect from the gang members. You could even call them gentlemen.”

    Sam received the reaction he’d hoped for: the slam of the interrogation room door.

 

He’d wait a little bit before he left.

    His phone buzzed on the table. Sam wasn't stupid either, he knew Henriksen lingered on the other side of the tinted sheet of glass.

    “Hey, Jess.” He greeted. “No, no, I’m fine. Everything's alright.” He needed to think about getting rid of  _another_ phone. His current one was still under warranty. If he accidentally dropped it, hands full of books, a replacement wouldn't cost much.

“Nothing to worry about, it was a false alarm. Everything's fine.”

 

The Federal Bureau of Investigation could go to hell. While they were at it, they could take that Azazel and Alastair bastards with them.

     “Everything's okay.”

 

God, he hoped they’d be.


	2. 1. Back in Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could kill over with the realization that just came to his once more pulsing head.  
> He was so dead. His previous ‘mistake’? Motherfucking understatement of the century. Cas was so boned.  
> Forget his career because he had just gotten into a vehicle with one of the most dangerous men the Bureau had to gossip about back in Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not going to be publishing this full time until Fall. I got bored on the way home from vacation No. 2 so I started writing this first chapter. Plus I gotta give you something more to go off of since I posted the prologue ;)
> 
> Dunno when the next chapter will be up. -again not on the full-time schedule yet- 
> 
> PATIENCE everyone.
> 
> We'll just call this first chapter preview #2 :3

Venturing back to the land of the living was relatively easy at first. Everything was  _so_ damn  _soft_. There was this sweet aroma of raspberries that made him think of fresh sheets. A little mush of a marshmallow that followed his head. The world was a warm fuzz-ball, almost like a kitten. A lot of that warmth was centered in front of him. This caused Castiel’s lips to curl. He’s always wanted a kitten. The reasons for exactly why he couldn’t get one evaded his distractible train of thought. All of that was great, but there was something even better floating in the air. A smell of… no, no. Smell wasn’t a strong enough word. It was more of a, yes - a musk. Now that was a lot more suitable. It kinda had a funny sound too. -Back on track- this musk seemed old. Almost like leather. There it was, leather and whiskey. Whiskey and leather. Cas decided he liked it. Disliking anything at the moment would take far too much energy anyway.

    He relished the state he had settled into. Not awake, yet at the same time not quite asleep either. An oblivion that existed between the two.  

    Though, eventually, the world decided to turn bitter. It pulled Castiel from his fluffy cloud and back to the harsh reality of his life.

    This resulted from the horrific mistake of smacking his lips. Holy  _hell_ everything  _hated_ him. The entirety of his mouth tasted something akin to the inside of a toilet. But the real kicker was when the warmth directly in front of him  _started to move_. Self-preservation was what caused him to jerk back; then proceed to roll off the bed, followed by the comforter. This was about the time that his head decided to start throbbing. The deep, hearty laugh that started to echo through the room didn’t help the ache.

    His memory wasn’t lenient either. It didn’t come back slowly. No, it rammed back inside his skull like a fucking freight train.

 

    Last night Cas had wrapped up his latest case. He’d been undercover for over half a year before he’d finally got close to the target. The crime boss, Dick Roman, had been impressed by Castiel’s “wizard” math skills. Cas had sniffed out the ring’s other accountant, and how he’d been stealing from this already (highly) illegal business. Roman had personally wanted to thank Cas for having saved him millions. Little did any of them know that S.W.A.T was waiting for Roman and his crew. Cas had made the excuse to stay back and celebrate his promotion to keep away from the bust. The last time he was in the middle of one he’d received a black eye from his boss. Zachariah swore up and down that it had been for the sake of the agent’s cover. That it had not been done out of the mound of spite the superior held for his inferior. Castiel may not be up to date with everything pop culture (he had his job to thank for that) but he, in fact, was not stupid.

 

    So if there was a bust, there would be other agents there. What made this so panic-inducing, was the fact he’d left with a man. Any other day he wouldn’t have cared. Hell, Cas preferred men.

    Though, he had been harassed for that little detail until the day he graduated. He moved away from Detroit the day after. It still followed him off and on through college, and it was there he learned to hide it. The very reason he moved to the outskirts of Washington D.C. was to get  _away_ from his previous reputation to build up a new one. Cas still had his fair share of lovers of the same sex - always in private. Anyone at the office is only aware of the occasional girlfriend or woman he’d take home. Or, rather, the broom closet apartment that he hardly ever stays at. It was basically an over glorified storage unit. His brother tells him he shouldn’t care what anyone thinks. Gabriel was always right to a point, Castiel would rather avoid being the laughing stock of the Bureau.

    Cas pulls the comforter over him. Raspberries envelop him in a cocoon that causes his mind to race. Motels across the country have kept extra clean sheets on hand because people can be such animals. Bodily fluids, so on and so forth. Maybe if this man thinks he’s dean he’ll leave. Then Castiel could forget about this, take time off, and pray to any God above that his coworkers were none the wiser to this outing.

    What caused alarm was the sound of the other man’s laugh. It wasn’t fuzzy, lacking that hungover quality that would prevent this man from thinking this was so goddamn funny. Frantically Castiel reached south, only to find his legs still covered in denim; the zipper and were button untouched. Even his belt was still cinched to the exact hole he’d secured it at. Alright, forget faking death for five seconds. Cas groaned as he sat up, hesitantly peeking over the edge of the bed.

    The sight he was met with certainly wasn’t one to complain about. The man’s mussed hair had hints of blonde to it. He had on a pair of sleeping shorts with legs half tucked under a single blanket. He was lacking a shirt. A leather cord encircled his neck. His chest was noticeably dotted with freckles. Flaming black ink rested just below his left collarbone, directly over his heart. Cas immediately (after a little ogling) shied away from the handsome stranger before him. His face heated quickly through his face and continued to his ears. Now he could go back to faking death.

    “You okay there, Jimmy?” That voice caused him to shiver as the stranger flicked on the bedside lamp.

    Castiel flinched at the reintroduction of light, his temple pulsing, reminding him pain still existed. Oh God. His undercover name. Death certainly couldn’t come fast enough. Cas had seen a lot of it since his first day in the field, and he was sure embarrassment can be an adequate cause. He chanced a glance back, finding green eyes seeming to both help his situation and in turn make it worse.

    The other man rose a brow at the silence. They furrowed before realization dawned his features. “Oh, _oh_.” Then he was laughing again. This time Castiel was given the whole view. Of how this stranger’s chest jerked sporadically with his attempts at catching his breath.

“Y'know… for a Familiar, you sure know how to party.”

    Castiel rubbed his head. He stood before plopping right back onto the mattress, sheets still curled around him. He may have been fully dressed, but it was still freezing. Cas didn’t have a clue as to how this guy was managing. “What happened?”

    “I buy you _one_ drink.” Mr.Handsome chuckled, grabbing for something on the nightstand.

    Next thing Cas knew, a bottle of ibuprofen was tossed his way. He massaged his temples. “Did…” Castiel couldn’t even find the words. Frankly, he didn’t want to either.

    “Making one thing clear right now,” he adjusted a pillow behind him. “Your frozen ass crawled into bed with _me_.”

    Cas squinted at the stranger.

    “There was some Fed bust last night. ‘Bout damn time they took down Roman.”

    “Then why new sheets?” His head tilted, mind still reeling around what  _had_ to have happened.

    The stranger chuckled. “You really want a piece of this ass, don’t you? Again, buddy, that didn’t happen. What happened was you vetoing the nice setup I made for you on the couch. You would have gotten to the bathroom in time in you had  _stayed_ there. Since you didn’t I was tasked with the fun job of explaining to the cleaning lady at two this morning why there was puke all over the first set.” He gave Cas a sharp look from the corner of his eye. “You wanna get in bed with me. Sure, fine. I had pulled you out of the cold. But I drew the line at the shower. I need _some_ personal space here.”

    Castiel shifted, folding his legs in front of him. He turned his gaze back to the stranger. There was something about him that wiggled something in the back of Cas’s numbing mind. “Why do you look so familiar?” Thoughts normally  _stayed_ in someone's head.

    “You’re just full of questions. Guess this means I’m just another pretty face to you.”

    Castiel’s gaze sharpened to a glare. Maybe there would be death tonight… or whatever time of day it was.

    “Alright! Alright. You were pretty tipsy last night. I supplied one drink. _One_. Those friends of yours had already given you a couple. The rest was all on you, Jimmy.”

    “Castiel,” it slipped out.

    “What?”

    He just fucked up big time, that’s what. “My middle name. Most people call me by it.” The only thing that was calming him down was the fact that he could still be spotted by Roman’s scattered men. If he was still around town with the same name they’d find him faster.

    “Hmm,” the stranger hummed as he stood, pulling on a dark shirt from his duffle at the end of the bed. Next came a plaid button up. His phone lit up from the bedside table. His look held a steel calmness that almost unsettled Castiel.

    Cas averted his eyes as the man dropped his shorts to put on a pair of jeans.

    The bed dipped as the man pulled on socks and work boots. He tossed Castiel’s own shoes at him. “Might be a good idea to put those on.”

    “Why?”

    “Can you manage a single sentence without a question?” The man grabbed anything else that may belong to him, and maybe even Cas. It all went into the duffle.

    “I can if you start giving me answers.” Castiel let the comforter slip from around him as his coat was tossed to the bed.

    The stranger slipped on a leather jacket, brushing the curtains aside. “Suppose you wouldn’t happen to still be buddy-buddy with the Roman gang, right?”

    “Not in the slightest.” Cas didn’t like where this was going.

    “Then I’d get your shoes and coat on, we have company. You and I are just starting a list of things in common.”

    Castiel did as he was told. “Why would they want you?”

    “Umm… Long story that we don’t have time for. Now c’mon.”

    “Who the hell are you?”

    “Name’s Dean. We gotta go Cas.”

    Before Castiel could utter a word, Dean took hold of his sleeve and opened the door. Cold air blasted into Cas as he hurried to zip his coat. White flakes fluttered from the grey sky onto the already blank ground. Dean shouldered the strap of his duffle while simultaneous flipping up the collar of his jacket. The strange man materialized a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere and managed to shove Cowboys hat into Cas’s hand.

    “Put it on, don’t look at them.” They both added the two respective items to their wardrobes.

    Castiel chanced a side-glance. He recognized Edgar and some other familiar faces talking to a motel worker. Dean smacked his arm five seconds later. “Here.” He pointed to an ancient -yet polished- Chevy. The doors were unlocked in no time. Duffle tossed to the back and engine running not long after.

    AC/DC blasted loud enough to vibrate Castiel’s seat.

    What scared him the most was the way Dean grinned. “This is gonna be fun.”

    Dean guided the giant vehicle before running out of the parking lot. Cas grasped for a handle, hell for anything that would keep him from flying through either windshield.

    “ _Forget the hearse ‘cause I never die. I got nine lives. Cat’s eyes. Abusin’ every one of them and running wild!_ ” Dean tapped the steering wheel as gunshots cracked the air.

    Castiel swiveled in the seat to see Edgar looking down the barrel of a gun. His eyes were wide. Dean only pressed his foot further into the petal in their getaway. Cas’s heart stopped as he stared at the maniac behind the wheel. He could kill over with the realization that just came to his once more pulsing head.

     _Dean. Oh God, this is Dean fucking Winchester._ He was so dead. His previous ‘mistake’? Motherfucking understatement of the century. Cas was so boned. He was gonna die. Hell if he wasn’t already dead!

    Forget his career because he had just gotten into a vehicle with one of the most dangerous men the Bureau had to gossip about back in Washington. This man was untouchable so far by the Agents. That didn’t mean that every single personnel didn’t have the specific order to  _not_ engage with this man. There was already a set of Agents trained to hunt this man. To follow him to pin anything to him. This could cost Castiel his career if Zacharia caught wind of this. If  _anyone_ caught wind of this. He’d have to survive whatever the hell kind of misadventure this was first. His heart thudded so erratically inside his chest he was waiting for it to launch itself from his body.  

    Dean took a turn too fast, throwing Castiel into his side as the wheels of his behemoth vehicle hit gravel. It didn’t help that they fishtailed, throwing the rock every which way as a small cloud of dust mixed with the snow in the air. Brian Johnson and the guitarist seemed to be cheering them on the longer Dean sped them into nowhere.

    Eventually, Dean dubbed the distance safe enough for him to pull into a hidden side road before throwing his car in park.

    He let out a hearty ‘ _woohoo!_ ’ at the last chord of Back in Black. Some other dusty rock song started up, only to be muted as Cas shut the radio off. Dean’s adrenaline triumphant guffaw filled the car. All the while Castiel huffed his breaths in and out; his still wide eyes focused solely on Dean. When the man finally calmed he let out a large puff of air.

    His head rolled on the seat back to find his passenger. “Well… that was interesting.”

     _Indeed._ Cas didn’t know if he actually said that out loud or if he panted. He honest to God didn’t care.

    “Since we both have those assholes sticking to our tails, how about we stick together? Safer in numbers. Unless… you have anywhere you need to be?”

    Technically Cas had time off now. Between each case -depending on its length- he was given vacation days. There were the regular vacation days built into what he could personally take off. Anything other than that was the United States Government saying he couldn’t be worked to death in an already daunting profession.

    “Cas, man, I can take you wherever you need to go. On the condition that you’ll be safe.”

    Now that threw him through a loop. This man was highly dangerous and could have killed Cas ten times over by now. But he was unwilling to drop him off somewhere he wouldn’t be protected. An idea formed in his head that absolutely terrified him, and at the same time he accepted the challenge. Maybe he could get some time off and get close to one of the Bureau’s most wanted. See if he could learn any Dean Winchester magic tricks. The man, sure enough, was an enigma all of his own. One that a lot of people preferred not to solve.

    “No, no I don’t have anywhere to be.”

    Dean nodded. “Hope you don’t mind being stuck with me for a while. We got a long drive ahead.”

    With that, Dean shifted gears and continued them on their way. He poked the radio back on, turning down the volume. Land floated past with piling snow as they traveled down the gravel. The last rift of Back in Black was immediately followed by Shoot to Thrill.


	3. 2. Walk This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if ordered by all fates and by coincidence itself, Aerosmith started rolling as soon as Dean turned the key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another chapter! Just to let y'all know, my life still pretty much sucks... so no, this isn't a regular thing just yet. I'm haven't even completely started the new season, and that should (hopefully) help with this block I have going. Besides the fact that I'm hella busy. 
> 
> Also, I'm really really sorry if this chapter sucks or isn't what you expected... it's nearly 2,000 words, so uh, bonus?  
> I hope it's alright? 
> 
>  
> 
> P.s. Benny isn’t a vampire in this, so you’re gonna have to deal with Elizabeth being his niece.

On most days Castiel would be lucky to wake up quietly. It was only ever a rare occasion on his off days. A day that _should_ have been today. One where he could open his eyes slowly and laugh at the absurd dream he had of meeting Dean Winchester.

    Of course, fate hadn’t been on his side since that horrid accident. It had killed both his parents and one of his siblings.

    So instead of the serenity that Cas would have preferred, he awoke to the blast of a trucker’s horn. Whatever he was in shock as the beast blew by too. In that same moment, his eyes shot open. His breath puffed out in front of him in that spaced out moment of being pulled back to consciousness.

    “Close enough, _asshole_?” The growl came from outside of the black box. “Son of _a_ bitch.”

    Turns out that box had windows, a windshield, and a steering wheel. Castiel looked to the form who opened the driver’s door with bleary eyes.

    A flash of green glanced at him as the body dropped to the leather seats. They looked away before the engine started up then turned back. “Well, about time you woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

    “What?” Also, apparently Dean Winchester was fucking real. That or the last case ended horrifically and he was hopped up on the good stuff. Maybe even add in the detail that he’d been taken hostage.

    “Aurora? Blue and pink, blue or pink. Ran around the woods before poking a needle. I think there was a dragon. Creepy-stalker-prince who found her in the middle of nowhere...”  Dean rose a brow.

    “I don’t understand those references.”

    “Did you not have a childhood?” Dean pulled the Impala back onto the road.

    Castiel sat up, adjusting the blanket that had apparently been draped over him. This was really starting to get weird. Criminals, let alone  _murderers_ don’t tuck people in. Since when did hardened criminals show care toward anyone but themselves? Back to Dean’s question… Cas nearly said no, he hadn’t had much of a childhood. He really didn’t between hiding from his tormentors and watching his father struggle to keep his head above water with his home and job life. Unlike many people he had grown up around, his parents didn’t mean to cause him any grief. Especially the “time or two” the man up and disappeared into thin air.

    While on the subject of absent fathers, Castiel’s mind rolled over the thought of John Winchester. The man had been a decorated Marine. What exactly about his wife’s death could have caused him to go off the map? Maybe Dean wasn’t insane. His behavior could very well be the result of his upbringing. Then again there are many people that are exceptions to the Nature vs. Nurture debate that are clearly not right in the head. Cas couldn’t rove over his insight on phycology any further due to a pair of fingers snapping in front of his face.

    “Hey,” Dean whistled, “I asked you a question.”

    “Hmm?” Cas hummed, rubbing his eyes.

    Dean shook his head as he glanced over. “You hungry?”

    Castiel didn’t even have to voice a confirmation. His stomach did the talking for him with loud angry rumbles.

    “I figured,” it almost sounded like an apology.

    After tearing away from Edgar and the motel Dean didn’t stop for much. So any food they had the day before was limited to whatever Cas could find on a cheap gas station shelf. The Cowboy’s hat that Dean had shoved at him was resting on the dash. Cas reached for it questioningly as Dean set his beloved car in park.

    “You can wear it if you want. I think we’re far enough away.” He zipped up his leather jacket, pausing with his hand on the door. “I’m more their person of interest. Don’t know what you did but I think my ass has a larger price tag.” Apparently, this sounded too serious because he followed that up with: “in both ways.” There was a wink for extra measure.

 

Cas was blinking his surprise that they were sitting down for breakfast. They skimmed over the menu hanging above the bar.

    “Tuesday, Pig in’a’poke,” Dean grinned.

    “Do you even know what that is?” Cas couldn’t help the question.

    “About to find out,” Dean replied as the waitress walked over.

    They both ordered a cup of coffee and respective food choices.

    Castiel watched his… he didn’t even know what to call this man. He had come with him on his own accord, Dean wasn’t holding him against his will. They weren’t friends per say either. Acquaintance just sounded strange. Fellow survivor? No, that didn’t work either. Then it hit him. Dean was a compeer. They were both being hunted by the same group of people, by bad guys. Silently he had to tisk himself for thinking he could be in the same boat as a wanted criminal. That just wasn’t right.  

    “What’s on your mind, Cas?”

    Castiel was pulled from his thoughts. Turns out that he had been staring at his eggs and bacon. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

    Dean lay down his fork as he rose a brow. “Nothing enough to be pushing around those already killed eggs around on your plate?”

    “How do you do it?” The words were out of his mouth before he could put them in check.

     “Do what, Cas.”

    He was really starting to hate himself for sharing his real name with this man. Cas ducked his head. “Stay ahead of the FBI?”  And there he goes, fucking giving himself away like he was still green.

    Though, instead of an angry tone as he expected. Cas looked up started at Dean’s hardy laugh. Dean calmed down quickly at the strange look given to him from across the table. “What? Oh, I can assure you… however much the feds and cops hate me, the supernatural hate me more.” Dean popped a bacon bit into his mouth.

    Cas’s brows creased.

    “Oh yeah, you’re a newbie. Right. You don't understand what I'm saying. Basically, anyone who works outside the law wants to spill my guts more than those who work in it.” He paused, “guys like Roman’s group? They have a bigger bounty on my head than the entire legal system combined.”

    “No,” Cas couldn’t believe it.

    “Oh yeah, buddy. Criminals think I’m worse than the law does.”

    Castiel still was unable to wrap his head around this. “I… what?”

    Dean smirked as he cleaned his plate. “That's because more often then not I steal the shit they stole in the first place. Guess you could also call me a rat.”

    Castiel thought back to what Dean said about being wanted by Roman’s group. He could have been the Bureau’s biggest witness, passing along his knowledge through someone else, or dropping anonymous letters. Truly this man was an enigma wrapped in burger grease.

    Cas could only shrug and catch the tip.

…

 

It was getting later. Cas wasn’t exactly sure what direction Dean was headed or why, all he knew was that he was drifting off when it happened. Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was only enough to rouse Cas the slightest bit. Lazily he tuned in as his head rested on the passenger door.

    “Yeah, this is him.” There was a pause. “Whoa, whoa, slow down Liz.” Out of the corner of his slitted eyes, Cas saw Dean tense. The wanted man’s eyes darted to the nearest road sign. “Can you hold him off ten more minutes?” Another pause, “you got it. I’ll be there soon.” With that, his phone snapped shut, thrown carelessly onto the bench seat. “Hold on Cas, change in plans.”

    That was the only warning Castiel received before Dean jerked the wheel and sent them down another deserted gravel road.

    “What the hell!” Cas yelped, officially pulled from any kind of sleep he could have hoped for that night.

    “That was an S.O.S call from my best friend’s niece.” There wasn’t much said in the next tension-filled minutes. Dean’s foot practically to the floorboard. All kinds of laws were broken, which really didn’t surprise Cas, for them to end up in front of the small diner in half the time Dean had promised.

    The sound of glass shattering and shouting inside caused Cas to jump in his seat. His instincts wanted to kick in.

    “ _Stay_ ,” Dean growled. “Don’t need two of you in there.”

    Originally Cas was going to mumble something along the lines of not being Dean’s trained show dog. But that last part threw him into yet another loop.

    Dean forced the front door open, nearly snapping the hinges. More glass broke, more shouting. This time crashing of tables and chairs started up before someone was smacked against the window. It wasn’t Dean, that part Cas was sure of. He didn’t have to wonder long, the same man being launched out the front door seconds later. Dean stalked up to him, taking the stranger’s shirt collar and getting up into his face.

    “This is the last time I’m gonna tell you, Martin. You hear me? This is the last goddam time.” Dean’s dark tone sent chills up Castiel’s spine. _What the actual hell?_

“I swear I’m done! I’m done, Dean, I swear it!”

    Dean pulled the man back to his feet. “Then get the fuck out of here.” Dean shoved Martin off, causing the other man to stumble as he ran away like a little girl.

    Dean stood there fuming for a little while, running a hand over his hair in an attempt to calm down.

    “Dean?” A hesitant voice floated from inside the diner.

    “Yeah, it’s safe to come out now, Elizabeth.” A young woman with copper brown hair stepped out into the growing evening.

    “Thank you,” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around Dean.

    “Anything for you sweetheart.” He patted her back in the embrace before letting a hand linger on her shoulder.

    “Please don’t tell uncle Benny,” she pleaded.

    Dean sighed. “You got someone to work with you down here from now on?”

    She glared at him.

    Dean held up his hands in his defense. “Hey, I know you can hold your own, it’d just make me feel better. And I might have less of an inclination to call your uncle about it.”

    The girl sighed. “Alright,”

    “That’a girl. Thank you.”

    “I wish most of your visits didn’t involve this.”

    “Same here, but most the time I’m too busy to stop by _anyone_.”

    “Yeah, yeah. Your saving the world bullcrap.” They made their way to the Impala.

     _Saving the world?_

The two wrapped up the conversation pretty quickly. Dean didn’t climb back into his beloved muscle car until after Elizabeth was well down the lane in her own car. When he did, he dropped down with a heavy sigh.

    “All within a days work.” He winked at Cas.

    Cas couldn’t see the bad in the event that just took place. It was almost as if he kept walking a line. Nearly everything he  _thought_ he knew about Dean Winchester can be thrown out the window as untrue. Going by that, Cas didn’t have enough to even go off of. He sighed, about to give himself a migraine.

    “Dude, calm down. I can hear you think from over here.” Dean chuckled and flashed that god awful grin. As if ordered by all fates and by coincidence itself, Aerosmith started rolling as soon as Dean turned the key.


	4. 3. House of the Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No. Whatever that was it’s your business, Cas. I was just commenting because you seem more relaxed.”   
>  “I guess.”   
>  “Good, ‘cause we got a long stretch of road ahead of us.”   
>  Cas groaned.   
>  “Don’t worry Cassandra, it’ll be fun,” Dean smirked.   
>  “I’m sure that’s how every horror movie starts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This honestly has taken me longer than I am proud to admit. 
> 
> But nice and long! (at least longer than what I normally shoot for) 2,145 words to hopefully hold Y'all over for a little while.

    “I’d like to use up my vacation time. Gabriel has been insistent we go- no.  _ No _ . That’s stupid,” Cas huffed. He was trying his best to find a way to tell his boss that he needed time off, more than usual. That is,  _ without  _ mentioning that he happened to be sharing a motel room with Dean  _ fucking Winchester _ . He could easily state that when he called his boss, but there just wasn’t anything against Dean at the moment. Couple that with how this man can disappear and keep under the radar. If Cas fucked up now, this chance could slip from the Bureau's hands for the next decade or so. Right along with the possibility of Cas ever finding a job again Maybe even for the rest of Dean’s natural life. However long that may be. 

    Cas wasn’t given much more time to think before the phone in his hand rang on its own. “Hello?” He tried to swallow the panic. 

_  “Castiel, I’d like to speak to you about taking some time off. _ ” Zachariah, always cool and straight to the point. 

    “I apologize, sir, I was going to call to speak to you about- wait, what?” 

    There was a sigh from the other end of the line. _ “Roman’s feathers have been roughed up pretty well. With him, there or not the group is still out for blood. Whatever the hell you’ve been doing to avoid them, keep it up. It’s about time you took an extended vacation. Henrickson’s words, not mine.”  _

_ Undoubtedly _ . “Yes sir, I understand.” 

_ “Check in every few days, and we’ll let you know when we need you back.”  _

__ “Yes, sir will do.” But the line was cut before Castiel even completely responded. “That was easy,” he couldn’t help but breathe. 

    “At least something-” Dean rose his hands when Castiel spun around in shock. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” 

_ You sure as fuck did anyway. _ For some reason, Cas was able to keep the words in. 

    “What I mean is, at least something is going well.”  

    “You heard?” 

    “No. Whatever that was it’s your business, Cas. I was just commenting because you seem more relaxed.” 

    “I guess.” 

    “Good, ‘cause we got a long stretch of road ahead of us.” 

    Cas groaned. 

    “Don’t worry Cassandra, it’ll be fun,” Dean smirked. 

    “I’m sure that’s how every horror movie starts.” 

    “That’s just downright hurtful.” 

 

    The pair packed up in relative silence. Bags were tossed to the back seat, and soon the monstrosity of an engine was announcing their departure to the world. That quiet kept up for a good majority of their ride. They had opted for an on-the-go breakfast but stopped for lunch. After pulling away from the small homey diner the cab was filled with the newest song to roll through the tape. The guitar was strummed before the vocals were introduced. 

_ “There is a house in New Orleans, they call The Rising Sun. And it’s been ‘a-rollin' a many…”  _

The volume was turned to a murmur. 

    “I’m starting to feel this vibe again,” Dean said casually. 

    This threw Castiel through a loop. “What’s that?” 

    “You got this same kinda funk rolling off you. Been there ever since you first hitched a ride.” 

_ More like napped… _

__ “You do understand you can leave anytime, right Cas?” Dean’s Adam's apple bobs. “Unless there’s something you’re gettin’ at?” 

    “What? No. No-” Cas stopped the moment his eyes met the green irises holding him hostage. Just as suddenly his ability to speak was left alongside mile marker 13. 

    “I need to know if you want out, Cas. There’s some shit you’ll be getting into the longer you stay. Shit that you shouldn’t have to be associated with.” 

    Day 4 and he might just be getting a confession.

    “I kinda got mixed up with the wrong crowd when I was younger. Now I got some people after me and my family. The only difference now is Sammy is safe where he’s at.” Dean let out a breath. “My dad got mixed up in some of that shit too, but he did everything in his power to get me and my little brother away from it. And you’ll be meeting some of those people who helped if you stay on board.” 

    Castiel’s eyes jump to the rearview mirror as Dean takes a right turn onto a dirt road. So did a beige Pontiac that had been taking all the same turns for a while now. 

    “I think we’re being followed.” 

    Dean’s eyes find what Cas had been pointing out. “Oh, them? They’ve been tailing us for the last two miles.”  

    “What the hell, Dean!” 

    “It’s called a false sense of security. Those douchebags are about to eat our dust.” 

_   Quite literally _ ,  Castiel noted as Dean’s foot hit the floor. 

    “And a fucking Pontiac too,” Dean laughs. “That shit can’t even touch Baby. New sports cars still got nothin’ on this classic girl.” Dean pats the steering wheel. 

    Castiel loses track of where they are after the fourth interval of left and right turns. He’s dizzy by the time Dean pulls back onto a stretch of two-lane asphalt. 

    “See?” Dean glances over to Cas. “Everybody wants a piece of this.”  

    “Fuck,” Cas lets the back of his head hit the top of the bench seat. “This is Detroit all over again.” 

    “That’s where you’re from?” It was asked out of casual conversation. It was weird to Cas that it wasn’t noisy sounding or demanded. 

    “Was. A long fucking time ago. Never really looking to go back, either.” 

    “Understood.” Dean let his fingers lift from the leather of the wheel in concession on the topic. 

    Castiel settled for watching the scenic view roll by until Dean was turning off the highway. “Where are we headed, exactly?” 

    “To a friend’s. She’ll help us out for the night. I’ve been meaning to drop by for a while now.” 

 

    The trees grew dense, hiding the cabin-like building well. Dean pulled into a shed covered in all sorts of vegetation. He merely motioned for Castiel to follow him before they had stepped onto the front porch. Dean pounded on the door. There were footsteps on the other side, but no one spoke a word. 

    “Eagle to landing,” Dean looked expectantly at the curtains that had been pulled from the small window on the door.  “Alright,  _ fine _ . Hunter to Garrison.” 

    The door creaked as it opened. “Thought it’d take you all night to say it, Winchester.” A woman with dark hair pulled up into a ponytail grinned. 

    “Still think they’re both fucking stupid names.” 

    “Now that’s something we can both keep going round and round about. Point is Bobby and Ellen O.K.ed it.” 

    “So now you’ve corrupted my aunt and uncle?” 

    “Bigger fish,” she motioned to Cas with a dark eyebrow. “Who’s your buddy here, Winchester?” 

    “Oh, him?” Dean met Cas’s eye for a second after he gave up the staring match. “Familiar from an outfit outta Detroit.” 

   “Ah huh,” she hummed while keeping a sharp eye on Cas. Her jaw set as she pushed the door the rest of the way open. At her hip, she pointed the end of a shotgun at Castiel. “You know I don’t like Familiars to be sniffin’ ‘round my business. Damn near allergic to them.” 

    “Good to see you’re excited to see us, Pam.” Then Dean turned on his infamous charm. “Don’t worry, this guy’s harmless.” A smile spread over his lips as he stepped in front of Cas, even with the gun still pointed at them. “He doesn’t gotta Witch breathin’ down his neck.” 

    The woman matched a stare with Dean for a few beats longer before setting down the gun. “Whatever, Winchester.” 

    Cas rose a brow to Dean as the lady turned around to walk down the hall. He’s heard Dean speak that word before. “Familiar?” 

    “You’re basically a cat. Now shut up, keep your head down, and please do what the kind lady says. Don’t piss her off, ‘cause she knows how to use a gun.” Dean stepped into the doorway. 

    “Oh, and what you said before, I didn’t have to do anything.” Pam turned around. “Bobby and Ellen thought it was a good idea.” 

    “What, more code on top of what code we already got?” 

    Pam’s eyes shifted uneasily over Dean’s shoulder at Castiel. 

    Dean followed her gaze. “Don’t worry about him. Like I said, he’s  _ fine _ .” 

    Pam shook her head, “you’re unbelievable.” With that, she kissed Dean. Her hand rested at the nape of his neck as she pulled him down to her height. Castiel’s eyes darted to anywhere but _ them _ . 

    When they pulled apart Dean breathed in deeply. “Well, that’s one hell of a hello.” There was a sharp slap as Pam’s hand met Dean’s cheek. 

    “You don’t call. You don’t come by, and first thing after you do, you complain about a goddamn name.” 

    “Sorry?” 

    Pam scoffed, “c’mon, there’s something you need to see.” 

    They followed her into a back room. A large map covered the far wall, lit up with colorful pins. 

    “Son of a  _ bitch _ .” 

    “Yeah,” Pam said, “exactly.” 

    All Dean could do was shake his head. “Son of a bitch,” he repeated much softer. 

    Pam stepped up to the map, pointing at certain places marked with the pins. “We got a pack of Black Dogs here, Demons almost everywhere else. The damned Supernatural have been kicking it up a notch. Not to mention there have been a few Vamp sightings. One particularly after your scent.” 

    Dean crosses his arms. “I can handle a fucking bounty hunter.” 

    Pam glared back at him. “Gordon  _ Walker _ is that bastard, Dean.” 

    “Pamala, that’s hardly anything new.” 

    “And I’m telling you not to fuck around with this prick. He burned you once, I don’t want to watch it happen again.” 

    Dean sighed, “alright.” 

    “Dean. This isn’t something to be dragging your pet into.” 

    “ _ Alright _ .” 

    During this, Cas had leaned against the wall to disappear as much as he could. He wanted to see where this was leading and what he could pull from it. So far it only pointed to how insane these two were. He closed his eyes for a few moments, taking in a breath. When he opened them again, both Pam and Dean were looking at him. 

    “How about you both get some sleep tonight. You know where everything is.” 

 

    Dean led them down a new hallway, making the building more like a home. He quickly set the room up for the night. 

    “Black Dogs,” Castiel couldn’t help but whisper as he sat down on the cot, pulling the blankets back.  

    Dean glanced up at him, already stretched out on his own. “Oh, yeah.” He chuckled, tucking his hands behind his head. “I use to tell Sam these kinds of myths growing up so he would go the fuck to sleep. Guess they just stuck.” 

    Castiel jerked onto his side, leveraging himself up with an elbow. “You read these as bedtime stories to your brother?” 

    Now Dean was laughing. “Hey, the kid turned out good weather I scared him to death or not.” 

    Cas dropped onto his back. “You’re insane.” 

     “Yeah, pretty much.” Cas could hear the grin in Dean’s voice. “Night, Cas.” 

    “Goodnight, Dean.” 

…

 

Even though the cot hadn’t been the most comfortable thing, Cas had slept deeply. He could hardly be bothered to even open his eyes after he awoke the next morning. 

    “Missouri? What are you doing here?” Dean asked after the door to their impromptu guest room opened. Still half asleep, Castiel was convinced this was a part of a dream. 

    “Nevermind that now, there’s something important to talk about.” footsteps faded away. Cas slipped back into a light sleep. 

 

He rolled onto his side sometime later, smacking his lips and peeling his eyes open. The door hadn’t been shut, so he could see into the kitchen as Dean spoke with the kind-voiced lady. 

    “That boy’ll be the one to grip you tight and raise you from perdition.” 

    “Okay?” 

    Cas sat up, trying not to draw attention to himself, but found it anyway. 

    The newer guest was a wise-looking woman of dark skin. Her chocolate eyes were soft as she turned them to him. “Ah, Castiel, I’m Missouri,” she smiled as he stood. 

    “How did you-?” 

    “Nevermind that now, there are bigger matters.” 

_ As it seems there always are.  _

    “It’s true, honey.” Missouri glanced over at Pam, who Castiel hadn’t even noticed enter the kitchen. “Something big is coming.”  

    With that Dean stood, grabbing what little they had brought in with them. 

    “Dean?” 

    “C’mon Cas, we gotta go.” Dean took hold Of Castiel’s sleeve. The same shirt he’d worn yesterday. 

    “Be safe, boys!” 

 

    Next thing Cas knew, they were in the Impala, engine growling. 

    “Where we going now?” 

    Dean gunned in, taring down the drive they’d leisurely drove the previous day. “ _ Standford. _ ” 


	5. 4. Nothing Else Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean,” he hisses.   
>  “It was either this or climb through the window.”   
>  “And in what world do you climb through your brother’s window?” Cas harshly whispers.   
>  Cas catches a shadowed smirk as Dean looks back at him. “One where I don’t have you to yell at me for doing it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is hella heavy on dialogue. But... there might be a few things cleared up... 
> 
> anyway, hope y'all enjoy. Happy and safe holidays!

    By the time they roll into an alley next to what Castiel has to guess is Sam Winchester’s apartment, it’s ten till eleven. Dean tugs a cover over the Impala as Cas holds their bags. The shadows they currently are bathed in make him feel hidden from the world. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be Dean Winchester. That everything he does, even the good, has to stay unknown. Hell, even the difference he had made overseas couldn’t have been rewarded. 

    “Hey, Dean,” the words slip out in a whisper. 

    Dean pauses, the last corner of the tarp suspended over the Impala’s bumper. “Yeah?” 

    “Thank you,” Cas swallows. 

    Dean lets the cover drift into place. His frame in the moonlight relaxes as if he hadn’t expected this. “Uh, you’re welcome, Cas.” 

    “No,  _ Thank you _ .” It feels bigger than what it should be. As if Castiel Novak had just said fuck you and did the world a favor. Because he just did something that no one else wanted to do. And he meant it. 

    Dean smiles as he secures the rest of the cover. His ridiculously long lashes flutter in the limited light as he looks down. “Let's get inside.” 

 

    They quietly ascend the stairs of the apartment building until they reach a door. Castiel steps back, expecting Dean to knock, only to find Dean picking the lock when he glances back. 

    “ _ Dean _ ,” he hisses. 

    “It was either this or climb through the window.” 

    “And in what world do you climb through your brother’s window?” Cas harshly whispers. Not to mention the brother Dean hasn’t seen in years. 

    Cas catches a shadowed smirk as Dean looks back at him. “One where I don’t have you to yell at me for doing it.” 

    Castiel can only roll his eyes before the lock clicks open. 

    “Voila!” Dean grins. He pushes the door open and allows Cas to enter before him. When Dean shut’s the door behind himself, he flicks the lock back into place. 

    The accused criminal scopes out the living room before pushing Castiel to sit on the sofa. Dean made sure to gently set the bags down. 

    In the moonlight sifting through the window, Cas caught his first glimpse of exactly how tired Dean was. The Winchester’s shoulders slumped, and he was lazy about his carefully taken steps. He wandered to the fridge shifting the contents around.

    “What are you doing?” 

    “Seeing if they have any beer,” Dean mumbled as if his companion was a complete dumbass. No doubt he had kept driving at some point after Cas fell asleep. He had woken up once before Dean pulled back onto the road from the shoulder. Even then he probably didn’t get much shut-eye. That may have been why Dean didn’t know of the tall figure until the shadow was upon him. 

   “Dea-” Cas failed to squeak out.

    Dean pushed the figure to the ground, pinning them down. 

    “Just because you’re outta practice Sammy, doesn’t mean I not.” 

    The behemoth under Dean stopped squirming. “Dean?” 

    “Who the fuck else would be stealing your beer at 11 at night?” 

    “You were making a hell of a lot of noise.” 

    It’s 11:30,” Cas supplied. 

    “And  _ he  _ made the noise. Just so we’re clear, neophyte.” 

    “Do you even know what that means?” Sam grunts as the brothers still struggle. 

    “You’ve gone green, Sammy boy. All these years spent away… You’re downright civilized-” 

    Sam rolled them over. “Just so we’re  _ clear _ , I’m not green. I still know a thing or two.” 

    Cas offered a sheepish wave when Sam’s eyes shifted to him. “Hello.” 

    “We’ll talk about that in a second, but first,” Sam grabbed ahold of Dean’s jacket, shaking the older man. “What the  _ fuck _ is going through your mind coming here?” 

    “It’s great to see you too, Nancy.” Dean gave a self-satisfied grin. 

    The younger Winchester helped his brother up, smoothing down the collar of the leather jacket. “This isn’t a god damn joke, Dean. There could still be a Death Echo around here.” 

    “It’s what, been a little over a week since you called me?” Dean shoved Sam’s hands back as his brother nods. “Then we’re fine. They’re  _ Death Echos _ , Sam. Why do you think I’m always four steps ahead of them? They have two brain cells between the group. Repeat the same shit every time. The Death Echos will still be digging themselves out of snow drifts in Alaska until next month.” 

    Sam isn’t even able to reply before the light flicks on, temporarily blinding Castiel. Though it seems Sam and Dean were somewhat more prepared. 

    “Sam? What’s going on?” The blond quickly steps back into the clacking beads when her eyes land on Cas. 

    “Jess,” Sam breathes. “Um…” Sam Winchester lets go of his brother to step closer to this woman. “Jess is my brother.” 

    She offers a sleepy smile, “Dean.” 

    “Dean this is my  _ girlfriend _ , Jess.” 

    Dean sums up his own grin that must have been from the pit of hell. “Sam, Jess, this is my boyfriend, Castiel.” 

    Somehow, Cas manages to choke on air. He feels the blood rush to his face as he coughs more than necessary. 

    Dean is beaming while Sam gives him a ‘stop screwing around’ and Jess has a curl to her lips. Meanwhile, all Cas wants to do is grow a fucking shell so he can have a portable hiding space. Apparently, he needed one to do  _ anything  _ with Dean Winchester.  

    Sam rubs the bridge of his nose. “It’s 11:30 at night. How about we all  _ sleep _ , and I can yell at you for being here in the morning.” 

    “That would be preferable. Or just throw him out, I didn’t do anything.” Cas wanted to make sure he was on the sasquatch’s good side. Federal agent or not, no one mentioned how  _ huge  _ Sam Winchester was. The young man was a walking _ mountain  _ for cryin’ out loud. 

    “You’re the one that woke the beast,” Dean retorted. “We could have broken it to him over breakfast.” 

    “Yes, it is my goal in life to have my head smashed in by Andre the Giant.” 

    Dean broke out laughing. “Holy shit! You know something about pop culture after all!” 

    Castiel narrowed his eyes. “I know many things. Keep testing me and you might find out how accurate my aim is.” 

    “I might just shoot him in the ass for you,” Sam muttered. 

    “Alright, huggy bear.” Dean shot with a wink at Castiel. 

    Jess let out a jaw-breaking yawn. She patted Sam’s arm before turning back toward their room with something unintelligible about an ‘old married couple.’ 

    That left Sam to help them get situated. 

    Dean, ever the white knight, situated himself on the floor. As if Castiel would have let him take the couch after his comments.  _ Huggy bear _ . He was a trained killing machine. A government official. A  _ respected  _ agent of the law. 

 

    Cas pulled the blanket around himself more, glancing at Dean’s moonlit face. He had been respected in his field, once upon a time. Was and  _ still  _ is a killing machine. A United States Marine. 

    Castiel turned to face the couch. Why was this suddenly so difficult? 

    Dean Winchester was a guilty man. The bureau just never had enough to pin him, but they were slowly adding to that list. Dean Winchester was a criminal, through and through. 

    But there was a small voice at the back of Cas’s mind:  _ Is he, though?  _

 

…

 

    Waking to the sound of voices, a heated discussion no less, was starting to be a recurring pattern. 

    “You’re still a dumbass for coming.” 

    “Give it a rest, Sammy. You know you’re happy to see me.” 

    “Yes, it’s great to see my brother. The one who the  _ FBI  _ dragged me into an interrogation room to find his location. A group that  _ could still be around _ .” 

    “I already told you, Ash and I handled it. The Death Echos are still scrounging around in Alaskan snow banks. Merry fucking Christmas.” 

    “And the guy you brought? Where’d you pull him from?” 

    Silence. 

    “Dean, do not fucking tell me… No. No, you are not that damn  _ stupid _ .” 

    “He’s a Familiar.” 

 

    There was that word again.

_     “Familiar?”  _

_     “You’re basically a cat.”  _

    Cas was starting to understand how much of a deeper meaning each of these crazed names had. 

 

    Sam breathed in an angry huff. 

    “Before you said a god damn thing, I couldn’t leave him. Just so you don’t worry that pretty head of your’s he’s  _ only  _ a Familiar.” 

    “You pick up a Familiar off the street, what? He got a Horseman on his tail?” 

    More silence. 

    “Oh my God.  _ Dean _ . He has a fucking  _ Horseman  _ after him?” 

    “Yeah? So do I.” 

    “That’s not exactly anything new- wait. What? They’re  _ after,  _ after you?” 

    “Yeah.” 

    A powerless sigh, “which one?” 

    “War.” 

    “ _ Dean _ ! What the hell!” There was shushing as Castiel stirred. “You ratted on  _ Dick Roman _ . Let me guess, your holy tax accountant over there got out of doing the books?” 

    “Pretty much,” Dean said. 

    “Of course you did,” another angry huff from the giant. “I heard of Roman’s arrest. But I was hoping you weren’t the idiot to mess with  _ that  _ Horseman.” 

    “Shit happens, Sammy.” 

 

Something was set on the coffee table in front of the couch. Cas opened his eyes lazily and stretched. 

    “Sam and I are heading out. You need anything, let Jess know.”

    “Where are you off to now?” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sam’s sharp glare.  

    “We have a few people from the…  _ Garrison _ to meet with. We’ll be back soon.” 

    They left quickly after that. 

    Cas sat up, blanket stubbornly staying around his shoulders. 

    It wasn’t long before Jess sat next to him with a mug of tea as Cas sipped his coffee. 

    Castiel tried to form words in his mind that didn’t make him sound too suspicious. 

    “They have quite the strange vocabulary, don’t they?” Jess broke the silence. 

    “Indeed,” Cas sighed. 

    “Sam doesn’t think I can hear him sometimes. How he’ll wake up early or stay up late to talk to some Hunter or Garrison member.” 

    “You overheard… this morning?” 

    “Just as you obviously have.” Jessica Moore was a smart girl to begin with, but to seemingly hide this knowledge from Sam? Damn. Kudos to her. 

    Cas looked away from his own mug to meet her eye. 

    “Some late nights he’s on the phone with his aunt or uncle, talking about some Demon after a Hunter or someone in the Garrison. Or just a Demon in general. I use to think he was crazy, and sometimes I still do. But I’ve learned to trust him. He doesn’t mean a  _ legitimate  _ demon. He means a Demon, as a person, after someone he cares about.” 

    “A bad guy, for lack of a better word?” Cas supplied. 

    “Yeah,” Jess agreed. “And I know that his family doesn’t have the best track record, but I get this feeling that it's… the  _ real  _ bad guys. Not the Robin Hoods.” She offers a tiny smile. “I’m sure nearly all that crap he goes on about has some meaning.” Jess breaks out laughing. “Death Echo, Familiar, Vampire...” She rolls her eyes and makes a motion that the list goes on. 

    “You’ve never asked him about it?” 

    “As I said, I trust him. There are some nights I can’t stand not knowing. Though there must be a reason he keeps this stuff from me. He got out of that for a reason, Castiel. I don’t think a pre-med student sticking her nose where it shouldn’t be is very helpful.” 

    Castiel let her words sink in for a few moments. “You are correct on how insane it all sounds. Horseman, War...” 

    “I’ve heard him talk about that before, Horsemen, with his uncle. This I  _ know _ is far from good.” 

    “Worst of the worst?” Cas supplied. 

    “Unquestionably,” her soft brown eyes landed back on him. She set’s a hand on Castiel's shoulder. “Being a Familiar or not -whatever the hell that even means. Dean’s a good man.” 

    “You’ve only just met him.” Cas lowered his coffee. 

    “That may be true, but I’ve known Sam long enough. That brother of his means the world to him. Practically raised him.” She looks across the living room to a small table in the corner. “I don’t have to know Dean to be sure of it. I just have to be sure of Sam.” 

 

    Castiel followed Jess’s gaze. Smiling back at the pair were the joyful faces of John and Mary Winchester. 

    Cas came to the same conclusion: Dean Winchester is not a black and white case as he is made to be. There are always shades of grey. 


	6. Runnin’ With the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in Vegas, stays, in Vegas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I screwed up last chapter. It’s a small mistake but still. I wrote Dick Roman as the Horseman War. He is indeed a Horseman, just not War. This may not seem all that bad and I could roll with it… buuuttt there are reasons I have specific people as certain horsemen. It is based a lot on their personalities and roles for the story. 
> 
> Dick Roman is Pestilence, someone else (debatably worse) is War. I just thought I’d bring this up so y’all ain’t confused later on. 
> 
> Strap in guys, maybe even keep a few tissues nearby because... well... stuff happens. 
> 
> Also Merry Christmas (along with any other holiday celebrated) and happy new years guys! 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and until the next chapter!

When he was younger, Castiel’s mother would read him all kinds of epics. Stories of brave heroes and heroines that seemed to rise out of the ashes. These protagonists tore across lands on great and tragic adventures alike.

His father wrote him his own stories. He was old school. The type to sit in the rocking chair next to Castiel’s bed, pipe somehow always perfectly balanced between his lips. In his hands, he held a leatherbound journal that all his stories seemed to be tucked away in -or, at least the very start of them. 

Some spoke of wars against angels and devils. Others starred the ordinary man cycling through the Hero’s Journey. Sometimes there was a barren landscape of far away that was just waiting to be explored. 

The last one, Cas remembered sickeningly well. It was of an innocent man’s road to redemption. That last one, Mr.Novak had most of the plot jotted down on the now old and stained lined pages of that damned old notebook. Unlike most of his characters, these ones had seemed more real, more lifelike than any of the other fairytales he’d spun. 

 

The last plot C. E. Novak ever wrote, he proudly named  _ Faultless _ . 

 

When a young Castiel asked about it, his father smiled at him. 

_ “Never judge anyone by what others tell you, son. Let their own soul paint you a picture of the truth.”  _

Little did they know it was only two days before the accident that would change all their lives forever -and end the rest. Novak senior patted his son on the shoulder and told him there were many things he would not understand right now. He was right. Cas was hardly even halfway through high school. He didn’t admit it then, but there were many things he didn’t know. Many things he had learned from since, all because of these simple words his father had offered him.

_ “Some things lie right in front of you, and you won’t know it until it’s too late. You won’t see it’s beauty until after the opportunity fades.”   _

 

Now, Castiel could all but shake his head at how right the old man had been. That was a lesson he had taken with him throughout life.

 

Even now as Cas followed behind Sam Winchester, that leatherbound notebook stayed safely tucked away beneath his trenchcoat. 

Sam had blatantly refused to allow his brother to step foot out the door after that first morning they had stayed. Dean seemed to be pushing whatever time limit he seemed to have, along with his younger sibling’s buttons. Cas would have to agree that five days would be overstayed their welcome, certainly after showing up unannounced at 11 at night. 

“Hey Cas,” Sam pulled the smaller man closer with a giant deadweight arm. 

“Yes?” He didn’t like Sam’s tone. 

“What exactly are you doing with my brother?” Sam’s face held the picture of calm, though his tone was laced in venom. It was hard to kill a man in public, Cas supposed. 

“H-he saved me.” It was still pretty fucking hard not to anger the giant who could snap his neck with the twist of his arm. 

“Yeah, I got that much.” Sam was quiet for several more steps. It was probably to make Cas nervous. It wasn’t  _ not  _ working. “You do anything-” 

“You’ll rip my head off?” Now, this was a speech he knew.  

“No. I’m not the only one you have to worry about.” That was somewhat new. “Though I am the one you should worry the most about.” 

Fair enough. 

“But I will make sure you regret it.” 

Alright, he can step away now. If only Sam Winchester would let the  _ fuck go _ . 

It didn’t help that Cas had a feeling he was being watched. He glanced around for what felt like the hundredth time. Again, he caught the stare of a woman further away. She had short dark hair. Her face was square yet stunning. She looked innocent but the way she carried herself aired on the side of danger. Almost like a reaper looming before the dead. Like she knew more than anyone else of what the future may hold. 

When a hand latched onto his shoulder, Cas nearly vacated his own skin. 

“Whoa there tiger!” Dean laughed. 

“ _ Dean _ ,” both Cas and the younger Winchester growled in unison. 

“One and only,” Dean winked. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam demanded, using his full height. 

“Well, upon your insistence, we’re leaving.” 

“What?” Sam’s arm slid from Castiel’s shoulders as his frown deepened in shock. 

“I thought it was about time Cas and I moved on before someone actually does come looking again. Not like anyone could really arrest me yet, but, so you don’t worry that Disney Princess hair all grey…” 

“Dean-” 

The elder Winchester held up a hand. “It was good seeing you, Sammy.” The corner of his mouth turned up in that signature smirk. 

Sam huffed out a large breath. His smile wrapped in the sadness of what should have been a temporary goodbye, yet outlined in joy. There might have even been a slight hint of childish admiration. “It was good to see you,” with that the smile was gone. Sam’s brows were furrowed in a way of discontent, and if anything else, Cas wasn’t able to read it. 

“You too,” Dean welcomed the Gigantor's embrace, patting his brother’s broad back. “I’ll make sure to drop by again when I get back from Alaska.” He winked. 

Sam rolled his eyes. 

Dean set a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, starting them toward where the black beast called Baby sat. Cas was about to pull open the passenger door when Dean shouted over his car’s roof to his baby brother. “And you better send me engagement photos. Wedding invitation too!” 

Sam scoffed heartily, shaking his head at Dean. 

“Haven’t lost the ring yet, right?” 

“Still got it,” for show, Sam glanced around and held up a little wooden box. “As if I’d be like you and lose it, jerk.” 

“I wouldn’t do that either bitch. Leave that glory for our old man.” 

The brother’s shared a laugh and a silent goodbye before Dean dropped onto the bench seat. The Impala’s engine roared to life, soon the herds of people along the sidewalk were just blurred. All except one. 

The woman’s eyes followed the sleek car. Castiel could still feel her gaze, still pick her out from the swarms of people as they passed by her. 

Cas looked over to find that Dean was glancing at the people too. He just as easily could be looking for Sam in his rearview mirrors as he could be looking for the woman. Cas just couldn’t decide. Dean had handled everything so far, and maybe it was nothing to begin with. What were the chances he’d see the woman again? 

Then again, what were the chances that Castiel J. Novak would be running around with Dean Winchester? That was the answer his own traitorous mind supplied him with. Touche, Touche. 

….

 

“Where exactly are we going?” It was past noon, but Dean had stopped them at some random place to eat.

Dean blinked, before finally meeting Cas’s eye. “Vegas. Figured we could have a little fun.” The way he answered was nonchalant, distracted. 

Cas could tell that he was calculating something in his head, though it couldn’t have been that important if he wasn’t doing anything about it. “That’s what, 8 hours from here?” 

“A little over, yeah.” 

….

 

Eight hours was an overstatement. Dean apparently knew the quickest routes to anywhere. Coupled with his led foot, they made it to Vagas and the first Casino in sight in 3. 

“Wanna get married?” Dean quirked an eyebrow jokingly. 

Cas responded by elbowing him in the ribs. Anything his host said after, Cas didn’t hear. His attention moved to the interior before him. There was a fucking grand staircase leading down to the main floor on both sides. It had looked simple and cheap from the exterior, but now it was reminding Castiel of Gatsby’s mansion. The circus happening below them was like one of Jay Gatsby's bootlegging parties. An obvious difference would be that this wasn’t in a fucking book. This was  _ real _ . Not to mention Dean was no Gatsby, and it wasn’t the prohibition. 

 

Waiters and table masters weaved through groups of people, mixing dice and drinks. There was a dance floor on the far side. A stage tucked in the corner for the live band playing, but overhead speakers probably for recorded music. Though on this end,  _ Runnin’ With the Devil  _ beat against Castiel’s hands as he rested them against the railing. It was chaos.  Beautiful, elegant,  _ chaos _ . 

By the bar, a waterfall flowed from the wall into a koi pond. The fish and flowers added rich accents of red, white, and gold. When Dean took hold of his elbow, Cas nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“C’mon, can’t enjoy it all from up here,” and he smiled. Cas was taken back by how genuine the curl of Dean’s lips was. There was not a single trace of amusement nor a smirk. 

The moment the descended to the main floor, they were flooded with the noise and people. If Cas didn’t still have Dean hanging onto him, surely he’d be lost. It was hypnotizing how the people moved. Drinks floated within arms reach and the music tapped within his ribs. Yet the band further down didn’t mix into Van Halen. 

“It’s called The Crossroads.” Dean offered, guiding Cas toward the bar. “Betting here can be pretty lousy, but the drinks are somethin’ you could sell your soul for.” 

“You’ve been here?” 

“Once,” and suddenly they were sitting at the bar. Everything continued on around them. Yet in their small corner of the world, it was just  _ them _ . “What you’re noticing right now is part of the place’s design. Architecture really can be amazing.” 

Cas hummed for the lack of anything to say. Dean ordered something and the drinks were set in front of them within moments. Dean’s glass was filled with enticing amber liquid almost the same as Castiel’s. Though, his own drink took on more of a tropical color. He found out why as he took his first sip. Orange and Mango floated over his tongue before the softened kick of alcohol. The look was topped off with an orange paper umbrella.  

Dean swirled the contents of his glass before taking a hit. His eyes lingered along the wall behind the bar. 

“That get played much?” Dean’s voice seemed deeper, gravely even. 

The bartender glanced up from rubbing down a used glass. His laugh was short and nearly one syllable. “For whoever asks,” he picked up the black guitar from where it was mounted on the wall. “Have at it.” 

Dean took up the shining instrument, absently plucking at some of the strings. He winced as most of their sounds, quickly adjusting to tune. 

The bottom of Castiel’s glass was in sight, giving him a little courage. “So why here?” 

Dean glanced up at him. “Proximity. I knew it and it was close.” He strummed some chord. 

That was when it hit Cas. “You didn’t want to go too far.” It was starting to tie back with whatever conversation Dean had had with Missouri nearly a week before. 

Dean leaned against the bar, forgetting about the guitar. He looked Cas in the eye, seeming to be thinking over his words before his gaze shifted over Castiel’s shoulder. He set the guitar down as he stood. “I’ll be right back.” 

 

Just as suddenly as Dean left, the chaos raining around them became a cacophony. It was nearly too much to handle alone. Cas signaled the bartender to order another of whatever Dean had gotten him. When it came he sipped the straw while searching the mass of moving bodies for the man who had just left him. 

Several minutes ticked by slowly. Cas nearly wanted to slap himself for not even thinking that Dean could have left him. Though somewhere in the back of his mind screamed it wasn’t true. His thoughts were soon cut off as a pair of dry and tender lips crashed against his own. Acrylic nails brushed over his face when he tried to pull away, eventually succeeding. 

“Heya, Clarence.” She purred, red nails tracing patterns along his leg. 

Her dark brown hair was curled. Her lips matched her fingernails. She licked her lips almost predatorily. 

The woman before him leaned uncomfortably close. “My boss is interested in your boy.” 

Cas jerked back. “H-he’s not  _ my _ boy.” 

She laughed lightly, nearly sounding drunk. “Name’s Meg, Clarence.” 

“Who are you?” 

“Nobody right now, or,” she looked at him through her lashes, “anybody you want me to be.” 

_ No. No.  _ “No, that’s quite alright.” He stood, again looking for Dean. Instead, he locked eyes with the same woman he’d seen much earlier that day. 

_ Shit. Shit. Shit.  _

Even though Dean told him to stay put Cas stepped into the crowd. Meg made him uncomfortable and seemed to happily finish his drink for him. If there had been a buzz at any point tonight, it was horrifically gone now. Bodies bumped into him. People cheered, their arms nearly knocking Cas over as they celebrated their winnings. All Castiel knew at the moment was that he needed  _ out _ . The woman from before gave him a sinking feeling. Even if it was all apart of his overactive imagination, fresh air and maybe time to rethink his life was the best course of action right now. 

For the second or fourth time -he’s lost count already- Cas was nearly given a heart attack when an arm braced his shoulders. 

All the panic faded though when Dean’s voice flooded his ear. “Head down. We gotta go.” 

“I figured,” Cas grumbled, allowing Dean to once again possibly lead him to certain Death with an easy and mockingly easy pace. “What’s wrong?” 

“Man named Crowley now basically runs this place. He doesn’t exactly like me, and I don’t want to stick around to find out what kind of terms we’re on.” 

Castiel’s laugh lacked any luster or amusement. “He a Horseman too?” 

Dean merely cleared his throat. 

“Fuck.” 

The outlaw hummed. 

 

They make it as far as the staircase when the suits seem to be catching up. Sucking in a breath, Cas pushes Dean into the railing. He follows that up by jerking him down by his jacket collar, meeting him halfway. First Cas tastes whiskey, then mango sweetens the bitter taste. He realizes how soft and perfectly shaped Dean’s smart ass mouth is. It’s enticing and makes Cas demand more. Dean takes control, spinning them around right as security take the steps two at a time. The railing is now digging into Castiel’s lower back, but it isn’t exactly unpleasant. Dean Winchester’s lips are distracting. Intoxicating in their own way where liquor need not be involved. 

Then the thought caught up with him. He was fucking kissing Dean  _ Motherfucking  _ Winchester. This was around the time a few catcalls reached them, some people shouting for them to get a room. 

Dean’s eyes were wide in a destroyed, breathless way. “We should go.” 

“Yeah.” 

They didn’t meet any more trouble. Right before they walked out the front door, Castiel caught sight of the woman. She watched them even as the door separated them. 

They hoofed it to the Impala, predictably in the back of the parking lot so no drunkard would hit her. 

Dean stared at him from across his baby’s hood. His breath misted into the night sky in a glowing white cloud, illuminated from the lights dotted around the parking lot. “Did you just Natasha Romanov me?” 

Cas only answered when they were seated on the bench seat, doors locked and engine running. “I might have.” 

“What happens in Vegas...” the other man just shook his head. 

Cas tried to hide his blush at how Dean still sounded out of breath. 

 

A few minutes on the road seemed to prove that more was bothering Dean. Cas kept any commentary to himself as Dean stepped on the gas. The classic rock playing underneath the growl of the Impala’s engine wasn’t enough to calm him. It was starting to make Cas jittery. He didn’t even realize the direction they were headed until the sign for Palo Alto was lit up by their headlights. 

“It’s not just Crowley, is it?”  

“Reapers. There were a lot of ‘em. Reapers and Hellhounds - Reapers, in _general_ , are a bad sign.” 

“Reapers?” 

“They work for Death.” He soon added, “the Horseman.” 

“And Hellhounds?” 

“Work for Crowley.” Dean paused, his anxiety suffocating the air. “Listen Cas, I’ll explain it sometime. Now really isn’t it.” He nearly hit someone in his rush toward Sam and Jess’s apartment. Pulling up into an ally, Dean’s eyes spotted something rising into the star-splattered sky. “Son  _ of a bitch _ .” 

Cas went rigid because Dean Winchester sounded  _ terrified _ . 

“No, no, no.” 

That was when Cas spotted it through his window.  _ Smoke _ . Rising from Sam’s apartment building. Dean didn’t even shut his door as he ran around the car. Castiel pulled the handle of his door only for Dean to slam it shut. 

“ _ Stay here _ !” 

Cas wasn’t even able to open his mouth before Dean disappeared. There was nothing he could do. Of course, there was the option to run after Dean, but that’d be pointless. The Winchester could be  _ anywhere _ by now. Even dead. Castiel pushed that thought out of his mind. He opened the door to set his feet on the ground. 

A minute flew by. Then two. The cry of sirens grew closer as more minutes passed by. That small chunk of Castiel’s life felt like hours. He tugged at the hair that flopped in front of his face. 

“C’mon,  _ c’mon  _ Dean.” It seemed ridiculous. He had just met Dean. Yet nearly two weeks with the Bureau’s most wanted caused some feelings to get all mixed up. “Dean…” 

Low and behold the man bursts from a back door as the sirens cry gets closer. He’s practically carrying Sam before dumping his little brother’s gigantic body against the Impala. There’s no sign of Jess. This makes Castiel’s heart and stomach sink. Something shines on Dean’s cheek. 

“Sam.  _ Sam _ ! C’mon, c’mon brother.” Dean begged. He cradled Sam’s head in his hands. His voice and shoulders shook with the very real possibility that he was crying. Cas was too, but this was Dean. Dean Winchester was not supposed to cry. He wasn’t supposed to feel. 

“Sammy,  _ Sammy _ .” He continued to plead. 

 

Cas wanted to believe Dean was a bad man. With all his being in this very moment Castiel wanted to hate him. Dean was a cold-blooded man who left his men to die at the hands of mercenaries overseas. He was dangerous. At the very least he was  _ supposed  _ to be. 

But Cas couldn’t hate him. Now he doubts he ever will be able to. Because right here, right fucking now, Dean Winchester was just as, if not more human than most people will ever be. 

“C’mon Sammy. Sam,” it sounded like he was praying. 

 

Sam clung onto his brother like a lifeline. That’s because they both were to each other. The one thing out of an entire world of bad they had left to cling to right now. Cas tried to take deep breaths as the firetrucks and ambulances showed up. 

 

When that didn’t work, he just set his head in his hands. He could still taste whiskey as he smelled smoke. 


	7. 6. Paradise City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas’s eye’s searched the dark room frantically. He was looking for demons that had been left behind about 100 miles ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!! Another freaking chapter, about time, Ty.   
> This feels like a birthday present to myself. I don’t know how, but in some way it is :D 
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy, and until next chapter!

The lingering smell of smoke caused him to jerk awake. 

Cas’s eye’s searched the dark room frantically. He was looking for demons that had been left behind about 100 miles ago. Dean had refused to stop the car until Palo Alto was no longer a blur in the rearview. Sam wasn’t doing any better. Hell, both brothers were a wreck. Cas wasn’t so hot either. 

Shaking his head Cas untangled himself from the cheap motel comforter. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes- none of them had. What seemed to make him even dizzier, he swore he could still taste whiskey. 

He struggled with his shoes, trying to stay quiet before slipping out of the room. The countless hours spent in the car was a burnt out spot in Cas’s memory. He didn’t think he wanted to remember anyway. 

Cas glanced over his shoulder before he closed the door. Sam was nearly curled on himself under a mountain made of the sheets. He tossed again in his sleep, holding onto the pillow for dear life. Dean, Dean was a log on the couch. It must be doing a number on his back even though he had flipped onto his side at some point. The elder Winchester’s feet hung off the other side. He’d taken the ratty seating hazard without argument, shoving Castiel and Sam to the beds. Then again, it was possibly habit. The damned couch was what lay between the beds and the door. 

With a sigh, Cas let the lock snap in place. He had the desire to step away from the room, yet not wander too far. By the time he decided exactly what he wanted, he had already wandered to the Impala’s trunk. He sighed again before taking a seat on Dean’s precious car. 

The chill of the pre-dawn desert air was easy enough to ignore. Cas wanted to laugh. A single winter in Detroit could make Nevada’s cold temperatures blush. That happened to be nearly the exact color peaking over the horizon. Stars trying to shine started to dull. The night sky falling asleep to make room for the day. An owl called out to the last minutes of the night. Cas watched as the large bird took off from its perch to fly off to find it’s home. Other creatures were starting to appear. While the night was disappearing, the morning was waking. Pastel pinks and orange stained the sky. 

Cas could already feel the sun’s warmth, bathed in the dawn’s new light. For the first time in what felt like a long while, he felt relaxed. His thoughts calmed down even though one still stubbornly wouldn’t let his mind go. He thought of leaving the Winchesters again. Act as if he’d never meat them in the first place, or go straight to Zachariah and beg for forgiveness. This seemed to be one of the mornings he could disappear within the growing daylight and try to scrounge up a vacation to regale when he was allowed back at work. Try not to sweat when Victor Henriksen briefed the team on Dean Winchester’s newest location, or newest illegal act they tried to stick to him. Try not to see those green eyes every time he closed his eyes. Try not to cringe the next time he wants to drown himself in whiskey. No matter what he decides he resolves he needed to call Gabriel. 

The back end of the Impala shifted as more weight was added to the other side. 

“They say at sunrise it’s a chance to begin again.” The colors painted in the sky were reflected over Dean’s face. “Let go of yesterday and surrender our fears to the night. Some kind of bullshit like that.” 

Cas thought this over, “you don’t think it’s true?” 

Dean still watched as the sun slowly crept over the horizon. “Let go of yesterday? I wish I fucking could. But the night? The night holds all you should fear to begin with. All kinds of monsters use the shadows to their advantage. I wouldn’t be scared of the dark, I’m not. What I’m scared of it what it holds.” 

Castiel sat silently, he didn’t have words to respond to that. 

“And the sunrise being a new chance? I hope it is every single day.” Dean’s shoulder’s slumped with a large breath. “Guy like me doesn’t get too many, os you gotta hold on to every chance.” 

Cas hadn’t a clue on what to say to that. 

 

They sat in silence watching the sunrise. At some point, Castiel’s stomach grumbled. Dean offered to drive to the nearby diner, but Cas shot him down. After being stuck in a car for so long he needed a walk to stretch his legs and think some more. Dean seemed ready to go with him when Sam opened the door. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m right here.” He sent a glance to Cas, before standing and walking toward the room. Before anything else, he strode back over, telling Cas his brother’s and own order before stuffing Castiel’s hand full of bills. 

….

It seemed as if he just blinked, before he was sitting on a stool, waiting for food. There was a radio somewhere near the back. The song softly playing in the background had Cas tapping his foot to the beat. 

_ Take me down to the Paradise city _

_ Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty _

_ Take me home,  _

_ Oh won’t you please take me home _

The warm aroma of coffee was enticing, so he added three cups to the order. Sipping the caffeine gave him something to do, other than getting lost thinking of the mess that was the Winchesters. In the window to his right, he caught a glance of his reflection. Dark bags were starting to form beneath his eyes. He looked tired, almost down to the soul. For some reason, it seemed as if the Coffee was reviving him, as it should. Next thing he knew, he was staring across the street at the figure of the woman who’d followed them the other night. With a jump, Castiel rubbed his eyes before looking again. A street sign now stood where the woman had been. 

Castiel let out a chuckle. He might actually be going crazy. Half of that had to be his own fault by staying around the Winchesters this long. 

 

“Rough night?”

Cas continued laughing because  _ fuck  _ that voice sounded like his  _ brother _ . “You could say that. But more like rough two weeks.” 

Castiel’s laughter came to an abrupt stop when he turned to face the stranger. Because  _ fuck  _ that  _ was  _ his brother. 

“Gabriel,” Cas breathed. 

Gabe flashed his most annoying grin. “The one and only, little bro.” 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Cas covered his face with his hands.  

“Really, is it that bad to see me?” 

_ No, just that I’m running around with a criminal and his brother. I’d rather not you three meet. Also, I don’t need to hear you tell me “I told you so,” when this all inevitably comes to bite me in the ass.  _

Castiel gave the short answer, “uh-” 

It was cut even shorter when Gabriel leaned forward, taking a whiff of his younger sibling’s shirt. 

“You on vacation? You smell like a campfire.” A waitress set two containers down and the other two coffees. “Holy Fuck. I know.” 

_ Shit _ . “You do?” 

“Cassie! Why didn’t you tell me! What’s her name?” At Castiel’s grimace, Gabe added: “sorry,  _ his  _ name?” 

Some days Cas swore his older brother had ESP. He only glared at Gabe, mentally projecting  _ fuck you _ , just in case. 

Gabriel childishly rolled his eyes. “Of  _ course _ you’re not gonna share the juicy details,” he whined. Just as suddenly Gabe stopped dwelling in his disappointment, having found some other way to make his sibling squirm. “Well, I’ll be right back,” he quickly added before literally jogging out the door. 

Castiel couldn’t deny he was relieved to rid of his brother for a few moments. Right after Gabriel left, the waitress came with the rest of Cas’s order. She put it all in a sac as he paid, before exchanging “have a good morning.” 

When Cas stepped out the the diner, Gabriel was rooting around the back seat of his car. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Jesus!” Gabriel smacked his head on the door frame. “You still doing that random appeary thing?”  

“What?” Cas tilted his head. “What does that have to do-” 

Gabe quickly waved him off. “Never mind. Just, here,” he turned back to the disaster of the back seat, still rubbing his head. 

Castiel happened to glance over the roof of his brother’s car. He took a startled step back, swearing. 

“What was that, Cassie?” 

“Uh, n-nothing.” He rubbed his eyes once more. The stalker woman gone once again. He really needed some fucking sleep. 

“Ah-ha!”  

“Gabriel-” 

Gabe spun around. “Nope, no, nada. You shut up, I talk. Capeesh?” 

Cas held up his hands. Lord forbid this is the one time that Gabriel wants to get touchy-feely. It was great, just not  _ now _ . His mind quickly roved over how long it’d be until the breakfast he set at his feet would go cold. He loved his brother -most of the time- but he’d kill him if he didn’t have a warm meal right now. 

“Alright. I found this the other day going through one of the boxes of what was left of Dad’s old office.” Gabe held up that damned old leatherbound journal. The tan cowhide was just as Castiel had remembered it.

Cas took the book in his own hands, running his palm over the cover before flipping through the warning pages. Lo and behold, their father’s handwriting and words made the characters come to life as if he was still around. A few of the stories Castiel had helped with, one or two short writings turned out to be completely his own. He never knew his father had copied them down into his precious book. 

Shaking his head, Cas held the journal back to Gabriel. “Wow, I… Just… that’s amazing.” 

Gabe pushed it back to him. “Dad left it to you. Besides, you were the better writer out of all of us. Dad even claimed you’d be better than him someday.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“He didn’t. Look,” Gabe opened the book, turning to one of the last pages their father had ever written on. 

_ Faultless  _ written elegantly in bold on the top. Gabe turned the page again. 

 

_ Let the soul paint you a picture of the truth, and beauty you cannot miss.  _

_ I think you could take this story to its potential, Castiel.  _

 

  * __Dad__



 

 

“I-I…” Cas stammered. 

Gabe gently guided Castiel’s free hand to the journal. “Maybe you won’t. But maybe you  _ will _ .” 

With that Castiel threw his arms around his brother. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you, Cassie. Now get back to your boyfriend before your coffee gets cold.” Gabe affectionately pushed Cas off, waving to his younger brother. “And calling every now and then wouldn’t kill ya!” 

“It just might,” Cas called back, walking backward. “And it isn’t the coffee I’m worried about.” 

“Hardy har har.  _ I’m  _ supposed to be the jokester, hotshot.” 

“Trust me I know,” Cas rolled his eyes before turning. 

….

 

Breakfast thankfully was still decently warm by the time Castiel had returned. They all ate, not uttering a word. The TV was the only thing providing noise. Cas was the last to grab a shower before they checked out and hit the road. 

 

He took the back seat so the brothers could take up the front, and so he wasn’t intruding. From the moment he slid in he noticed a pile of things on the floor. Cas didn’t even have to pick any of it up to find that it was what few things Dean apparently was able to save after the fire had been put out back in Palo Alto. He glanced up at the brothers, though neither paid him any mind at the moment. Sam seemed stuck in his own head. Dean was concerned with his brother and staying on the road, not the ditch. 

That same song from the Diner came on after quite the guitar entrance. 

_ Take me down to the Paradise city _

_ Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty _

_ Take me home,  _

_ Oh won’t you please take me home _

 

Surprisingly it was Dean who hit the next button, before turning down the radio’s volume. 

Cas sighed, pulling out his father’s journal. He flipped to the story of Loki and the Northern Crown. Hours later, he found himself reading over the notes to  _ Faultless _ . He slipped the pen out of its holder along the side of the journal and jotted a few things down. 

….

 

The sun was setting, and they were even further from California. Not that that had mattered to Cas, but Dean had seemed in a frenzy to put distance between them and his brother’s destroyed past. Though, if Castiel was to guess, he’d eventually talk to his brother about going back. Within the pile of salvaged personal items from Stanford, Dean had rescued Sam’s books. If he wasn’t mistaken, there were some notes there too. 

Cas took a deep breath, digging in his front pocket for some loose change to feed the snack and pop machine. He actually was hungry, but mostly needed an excuse to leave the room for a few minutes. He had just punched in the number for the carbonated water (not needing caffeine at this time of night) when he heard the footsteps. 

“Give me a minute, I’m almost finis-” 

Suddenly hands gripped his shoulders. They spun him around, making him dizzy before slamming him back into the wall. The light on the wall flickered out. The street lights didn’t reach this far, making it impossible for Cas to tell who would be his possible murder. 

He swallowed, glancing down the way at the motel room where the brothers were currently in. They probably wouldn’t even notice. 

As suddenly as his attacker appeared, someone had ahold of  _ them _ . A muscular arm braced against their neck, pulling the attacker back - and Cas with them. 

“Let him  _ go _ .” Another strong arm yanked the attacker’s away. 

Cas sank back to the wall. That deep voice belonged to no other than  _ Dean _ . 

“Alright, c’mon macho man, that was only to get your attention.” The attacker sounded surprisingly feminine. 

Any relief Cas felt flooded away the moment Dean let them  _ go _ . He stepped around her right as the wall light flicked back on, revealing the same woman who followed them in California. 

“Tessa? What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked. 

“Why were you following us?” Cas demanded before she could answer. 

Dean glanced at him before raising a brow at the lady. 

“Well, I  _ was _ trying to warn you.” 

“Keep talking,” good, Castiel wasn’t the only one really fucking confused. 

“Death sent me to warn you about the fire. We hoped I or another Reaper would get to you before it happened, and if not deepest condolences.” 

“That it?” Dean tensed. 

“How about the name of the asshole who started it?” 

“What?” 

“Azazel. Alastair Nomed is his ‘brother.’ Self-proclaimed Princes of the Knights of Hell. Worse fucking Demons any of us have seen in years. Topper on the cake would have to be all, and I mean  _ all _ , the Horsemen are sick of those jackasses.” 

“Alright, you have my attention.” 

Castiel kept glancing over Dean’s shoulder at this woman, Tessa, and look back at Dean. 

“Death also has reason to believe Azazel is the same bastard who killed your mother.” 

Even in the poor lighting, Cas watched Dean’s jaw tighten. 

“Here, I have a note for you,” Tessa pressed a pater into Dean’s palm. He scrutinized it for all but a few seconds before Tessa pulled him down, whispering something to him. 

The next thin Cas knew she was gone. He tried to find her in the dark, but it was near impossible. 

It happened to be then, that his carbonated water dropped down into the bottom box of the pop machine. Cas yelped, clinging to Dean. 

Dean let Cas calm down on his own, not mentioning what happened. Castiel grabbed his water, before following Dean back toward the room. A fine mist settled over the dark world, creating an ominous feel to it all. 

“Who was she?” Cas finally asked. They took their time walking back to the room. 

“A Reaper. Tessa is Death the Horseman’s second hand. He can be a mean son of a bitch, but he isn’t stupid.” 

“Aren’t the Horsemen bad?” 

“Death isn’t, not really. He’s just someone no one wants to fuck with. C’mon, let's go back inside.” 

Sam had already turned the TV to some action/adventure movie. So, Cas settled down on his bed, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye take one last glance around the outside world. Soon, he shut the door and secured all the locks. 


	8. 7. For Those About to Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hope you ain’t got it in that fool head of yours that you’re going at this alone.”   
>  “No,” Dean flashed that damned lopsided grin. “I got all the backup I could ever need right here.” He slapped Cas hard on the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I've been working on this chapter off and on for the past 3 days. And now voila! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

It’s one thing to wake up to the sun warming your skin, and a whole ‘nother kind of bitch to wake up cold. If Castiel had to guess, after staying most of the day before in Northern Arizona, Dean probably drove all night. Though it was unsettling to wake up to a drastic change in temperature.  Not to forget drifting off to classic rock and suddenly there’s a dog barking on top of the Impala’s hood. Cas sat up, looking out the window to find a scrapyard with piles of busted cars and parts. The huge dog jumped off the car, skittering around for something else. 

“Woke up just in time,” Dean smiled at him, breath a white cloud in the air. “Here, put a coat on.”  

A jacket was thrown at Cas as Dean picked up two duffles. Castiel pulled the extra layer on quickly, stepping out of the giant boat of a car. 

“Where are we?” His shoes crunched in the snow piled around. 

“Welcome to the salvage yard,” Dean grinned. He threw his arms around to gesture at the house and workshop. “One of the only homes I’ve ever known, besides this girl.” He patted the Impala’s hood. “Rumsfeld, go on!” Dean picked up a bulky rawhide, tossing it to be lost in the snow. To his credit, the rottweiler bolted after the chew. 

“What a gentleman. You bring me to meet your uncle and I get the tour starting at the back door.” Cas sucked in a sharp breath the moment the words left his mouth. 

Dean, unfazed, busted out with a hardy laugh. It only got worse when he noticed his companion’s face. 

Cas’s face turned red without the help of the cold. He desperately scrambled for how he could save this. “W-wait, I was right?” 

“Yeah, and Bobby’s gonna be a bear already, shouldn’t keep him waiting.” 

Cas hardly had time to catch his own bag before Dean was walking to the door. 

When they stepped inside, they stomped the snow from their shoes. 

Dean rapped his knuckles on the wall. “Yo, Bobby, hope  _ Samantha  _ hasn’t spoiled anything about our  _ guest _ .” 

A shorter, gruff man now stood before them. His arms were crossed and he gave one hellacious glare from under the bill of his trucker’s cap. “Funny, about that-” 

“Before you say anything I’d like to remind you  _ Pam  _ is an ex-Familiar.” Dean turned slightly, pointing at Cas. “Remind me to shove that in her face next time we see her.” 

_ Next time? Wasn’t once enough?  _

The older man before them huffed. “There’s a complete difference between  _ use to  _ and  _ bein _ ’, boy.” 

Cas took a step back when those sharp eyes landed on him. 

“And some guy once told me that a Witch makes a hell of a difference too. You sayin’ that guy is just some old drunkard.” 

“First, watch it. Second, stop quotin’ me. And third, keep talkin’ and it’ll be your hide I skin.” 

“This is going real well, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Sam, not now.” Both Dean and their uncle snapped. 

Sam motioned for Cas to follow him, but he was stopped by a single breath from Bobby. 

“What’s the problem, Bobby?” Dean bristled. 

“Damnit, Dean. I’m wonderin’ if this is a good idea.” 

“It is.” Dean pushed Cas ahead of him, keeping a hand between his friend’s shoulder blades. “I mean, c’mon look at this face. You put up with Sam’s ugly mug. Think of him as another stray.” 

Cas awkwardly attempted a smile. 

Bobby sighed, running a tense hand over his beard. “I’m just tryin’ not to think of the kind of shit show this would be if your daddy was here.” 

Dean locked up. “Well, he’s not. He doesn’t know. And if I have anything to say about it he’s not ever gonna fucking find out.  _ Ever _ .” 

“Whatever you say, son.” Bobby Singer looked done. He was all over worn down and this conversation was a punchline about to knock him off his feet. 

“We done?” Dean cleared his throat. “Cas this is Bobby. Bobby this is my friend Cas.” He turned to the new face, “Sam’ll help you get settled. Bobby, I gotta talk to you about somethin’.” 

Castiel quickly skirted by Singer. The older man made Sam the Giant seem like a safe bet right now. 

Sam waited for the back door to shut before he spoke. He started it with a sharp whistle. Even then he had to calm from a sudden laughing fit. “He likes you.” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t see it before.” Sam’s back was still to Castiel as he dropped the bags on the beds and started to fiddle with a cot. “The way he stood between you and Bobby. I’ve only seen them go at it like that was… Damn, it was when Bobby made an off comment about Dad.” Sam shrugged as he glanced at Cas. “It’s kinda impressive.” 

Before Castiel could think to say anything, the door downstairs opened. “Hey, Cas!” 

Sam snorted. 

Cas didn’t move, still staring at the giant before him. 

“Go get your prom date, I’ll be fine up here.” 

_ These people _ . Cas growled in his head, turning to make his way back downstairs.  _ They will be the death of me. Especially if it was possible to drop dead from confusion.  _

“Sam busy?” Dean asked the moment Cas was back in the kitchen. 

“He is occupied, yes.” 

“Good, c’mon.” He pushed the sliding doors to the study all the way open rather than enough to get through. Once Cas was past the doorframe Dean closed them within reason. 

Cas looked around the book covered room. He could see Rumsfeld running around the yard after rabbits and his bone. 

“Alright, you say Tessa handed this to you?” 

“That’s right.” 

“This all’s got one hell of a sense of timing. This couldn’t have waited for -I don’t know-  _ after  _ the holidays?” 

“Tell that to fucking Demons.” 

“Fair point. Alright,” Bobby pulled out a map, trying to set it down on the flattest part of his piled on desk. “Here’s what’s supposed to be left of Cold Oak the quickest way is straight on I-90, but they’ll probably expect that. Start there but reroute to SD-44 West. It’ll take ya’ right through the Badlands, but it should get you where you need.” 

It was either the lighting or something Cas was missing. The town Bobby was pointing them to was called  _ Scenic _ . 

Bobby glanced up to see Cas’s face. “Locals call it Cold Oak. Ain’t nothin’ scenic about Scenic anymore. Rundown old buildings that tourists keep screwin’ with, waiting to collapse.” Bobby turned back to Dean. “You’ll know when your there. The damn bell is still sitting at the edge of the park where most of the township was, long time ago.” 

Maybe it was more code? “Why Cold Oak?” 

“Deadwood was already taken,” Dean jested. 

Bobby rolled his eyes at the Winchester. “Right on the edge of a national park. One of the most haunted places in the states. Some tried to make it into a tourist stop but that all failed years ago. Plus there’s a damn oak tree on that bell.” 

“Awesome,” Dean breathed. 

“I hope you ain’t got it in that fool head of yours that you’re going at this alone.” 

“No,” Dean flashed that damned lopsided grin. “I got all the backup I could ever need right here.” He slapped Cas hard on the back. 

The haggard man before them let his strong disapproval become tangible in the air. 

“He’s threatened to shoot me in the ass enough times, he’s gotta be a dead shot.”  

“Not even gonna think about bringing Sam instead? I seemed to miss the part where he got tangled into all this.” 

“Not even close, and you know why, Bobby. And him? Short version we got Roman breathing down our neck.” 

“Tell me something I  _ don’t  _ know.” 

“You missed the  _ we  _ part.” 

This caused Bobby to pause. A whiskey glass halfway to his lips. 

“Yeah. And now it makes a hell of a lot more sense why I’m draggin’ him around.” 

Bobby narrowed his eyes as if there was something more to be said. As if, Dean could  _ possibly  _ have any other reason to take on the burden that was Castiel. 

“If that’s all, then we should get headed.” 

“Don’t be an idjit-” 

“Where we headed?” Sam walked into the study. He was sporting new clothes and running a hand over wet shaggy hair. 

“Nowhere. You were gonna stay here, Bobby was talking about needing help with that  _ thing _ . Plus the Impala needs Gas. My Baby needs a little more than fumes to be the beast she is.” 

Bobby jumped on this, not so happily. “If this  _ thing _ is feeding the three mouths I suddenly have to deal with, then you better stay far away from my kitchen. Last thing I need is for you to burn this house down.” 

The hand paused at the top of Sam’s head. He had seemed suspicious, only for a laugh to break out. 

Dean took hold of Castiel’s sleeve. “C’mon, the last thing I want to do is leave you with these two. Next thing I know you’ll be puppy chow.” 

If Sam Winchester was doubting anything -mostly his brother- Dean didn’t give him a chance. There was a strong tug on the coat Castiel hadn’t been given a chance to take off. Next thing he knew, they were out the door. Rumsfeld barked at the Impala’s tail lights from his chain The large dog stood on top of an old tow truck. 

…

  
  


_ For those about to rock, we salute you, yes we do _

_ For those about to rock, we salute you _

 

_ Oh, salute _

_ Oh, oh yeah _

 

_ We're just a battery for hire with a guitar fire _

_ Ready and aimed at you _

_ Pick up your balls and load up your cannon _

_ For a twenty-one gun salute _

 

Dean tapped his palm on the steering wheel to what had to be the voices of AC/DC. Darkness overcame the sky a while ago. Sam undoubtedly would not be too happy when they return. It was very obvious that it was more than a gas run. When Cas tried to point this out, Dean shoved another cassette into the deck and turned the volume up. Since then, Cas had lost track of time. 

If he had to guess they were approaching their destination. He hadn’t noticed before but there was a group of trees starting to encase the warn, forgotten road on both sides. Dean slowed down, turning the Impala’s headlights off. 

Without a word, they stepped out of the large car, blending into the natural blackness of night. Cas was still confused, but he just followed Dean as the other man opened up the back of his beloved Impala. Winchester’s hand slid along the floor of the trunk, before pulling up a false bottom. From here he revealed a stash of weapons that to the eyes of a Federal Agent, made him look insane. Cas swallowed. Dean tucked a handgun into the waistband of his pants. The glint of the weapon in the moonlight caused Cas pause like he had seen it before. The answer practically slapped him in the face. Of course, Cas was familiar with Dean Winchester’s firearm of choice. A colt, model 1911A1. The .45 caliber weapon and many models like it had been used in the US Military up to 1911. It was a predictable choice of the brand of ex-Military dynamic Dean had going on for himself. Castiel hardly moved, not for the first time wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into. Then, before he could regret his life choices any further, there was a gun being shoved into his hands. Cas felt the cool metal freeze his fingers. The thud of the trunk closing, before the crunching of snow. Looking up, Cas watched Dean continue walking away through the cloud of his own breath. 

The moon made the frozen tips of the branches seem crystalized and from another world completely. Cas was starting to guess that was exactly what he’d agreed to walk into. He had to jog to catch up to Dean, who either didn’t notice Castiel hadn’t followed or just didn’t stop. 

“Welcome to the side of the Badlands no one wants to get caught in after dark,” Dean said. 

At that, Cas spotted the bell that Bobby had mentioned. It stuck out like a sore thumb. There were indications where buildings used to be, now overgrown or replaced by trees. 

“This way,” Dean lowered his voice and carefully planned his steps as his eyes sharpened against the night. 

The trees started to thin, revealing more intact buildings of the town. The Longhorn saloon’s roof had dried vegetation hanging off it. Snow piled over the skulls attached to the board broadcasting to the world the name of the dead bar. 

Dean’s hand came back against Castiel’s chest, stopping him before he could go too far. At some point, the criminal had taken out his gun, but still made sure Cas stayed behind him. It took Castiel a while to finally notice what was wrong. He didn’t know until the crunch of snow was right behind him, accompanied by a low growl. 

The hair on the back of Castiel’s neck stood on end. He clutched onto Dean’s jacket, trying to put distance between himself and the large black dog that had appeared out of nowhere. Its ears were pinned, head low to the ground, and large teeth bore to the men. 

Dean dragged Cas behind him once more. “Saloon.” He directed, pushing Castiel into a headstart. 

The dog before them snapped, snarling as it followed. Even when they shut the door to the saloon, she had made a way into the building. 

“Bitch appears fucking everywhere.” Dean was still holding Castiel behind him, pressing him into a corner. The dog was now on the far end, slowly moving forward. She had seemingly snuck into a hole in the wall of the old structure. “Well, there goes plans A, B, and C.” 

“You should try plan ‘D’, for dumbass.” A new, accented voice rung from the back of the saloon. A man much shorter than Cas and Dean showed himself. His suit was well-tailored, accented by a deep red tie. “Juliet,” the black dog stopped her approach, “come to Papa.” 

Obediently, the beast of a dog padded to her master. 

“Crowley,” Dean offered a tense grin. “We missed you at the Crossroad a couple nights ago.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard all about it. Meg was talking up a storm about your boy there.” Crowley boredly glanced at his hands, patting Juliet on the head. “Where’s your Moose, Squirrel?” 

“Far away from this, where he belongs,” Dean responded. “He doesn’t need to be involved with bastards like us, Famine.” 

“Now that's bloody hurtful.” 

“You’re a Hellhound, Crowley, nothing hurts you.” 

“Ah, ah, ah. I am the king of the Hellhounds. I am a Horseman.” 

“And I thought you gut Hunters like me on principle. This is the chattiest you’ve ever been, Furgus. Before we get any further, I’d like to decline your date.” 

“Funny, Squirrel.” Crowley started the pair down, raising a brow. He brought a hand up, before snapping his fingers. 

Cas set a hand on Dean’s back, feeling him become rigid before two men lunged at them from the shadows of the saloon. There was a clear order to stay put as the Winchester gently shoved his companion to the wall. Dean quickly left Cas, taking the closest man by the throat and throwing him to the floor. It was clear to see the military training kick in as Dean deflected a blow, using his opponent’s outstretched arm to spin him into one of the few tables still standing. This was around the same time the first man regained his breath, sweeping for Dean’s feet. 

Off balance, Dean dove for the one tripping him. The other held up his arms to protect himself, pushing a pained grunt from Dean’s chest. Now with the criminal stunned, the opponent used the leverage he was given to flip them. A shambled table fell onto the men, hitting Dean on the head. There was a further scuffle that Cas couldn’t see. The next thing he understood was that Dean stood on his own, the other man unconscious. That was before the second re-entered the fight, getting in one good hit. Dean was now thrown out of his element, nearly tripping over a broken table. The second man wrapped an arm around his throat.

Castiel had previously been shaking in his corner, not knowing what to do. Now, with all the fluidity of muscle memory, he pulled out his gun. The click of the hammer set a deadly ring to the battered old wooden walls. 

“ _ Drop _ him.” If that didn’t make him sound like a Fed, Castiel had no clue what ever did. He snapped into position, legs shoulder width apart, two hands on the gun, finger brushing the trigger, and eye glaring down the barrel. The sight was set with deadly accuracy, sure to take down this new man and get Dean out scott free. 

No one moved. Not even Crowley seemed stupid enough to test Castiel. 

“I said  _ drop  _ him.” Cas growled, narrowing his eyes. “Or I’ll fucking drop  _ you _ .” 

The man holding Dean, the one without the eyepatch, glanced back to Crowley. 

The man in charge nodded. “While you’re at it Rosco, drag Raul’s useless sack of meat over here.” 

When Dean returned to Castiel’s side, he was still panting. The start of a bruise yellowed his skin in the pale lamp lighting. Dean laughed silently. “If I knew you could do that, I’d have had you at my six a _ long _ time ago.” 

Castiel, as always, wasn’t amused. “What was that? Why didn’t you use your gun?” 

Dean cleared his throat as he straightened. “ALright. As much as I love kicking your ass, even indirectly… you and I both know that was just flirting, Crowley.” 

“I would have had more fun, but I was told that killing you was off limits. Apparently, you already have enough with that damned vampire after you.” 

“If you’d have listened, we wanted him in one piece, too.” Tessa appeared in the opposite corner from Crowley. “Hello again, Dean.” 

“Tess,” Dean wiped the blood from his lip. 

“On account of why you’re here, I think you might already know.” 

“Azazel,” 

“Precisely,” another strange voice came from behind Tessa. 

Dean once more went ridged beside Cas. 

A tall, thin man stepped from the dark next to Tessa. His cane tapped the rotting floorboards as if they could still hold the world. The skull at the top shone in the flickering light. 

“Death,” Dean breathed. 

The stranger’s smile was far from warm and comforting. “So you do know me.” 

“Not too out of the ordinary, you know me.” 

His laugh was chilling to the bone. “Ah, it is very hard to  _ not  _ know you, Mr.Winchester. Especially in my line of work.” Those cold eyes moved. “And Castiel, is it?” 

Cas hadn’t noticed that the gun had drooped. He wanted to snap it back up but felt it was a bad idea. 

“Yeah that’s him,” Dean answered instead. “So, uh, what’s up doc?” 

“We have a job, and a weapon for such.” Death pulled out a long-barreled gun from his coat. He stepped forward to place it onto the only sturdy table in the joint. “This is The Colt. It is non-traceable. That would be because it doesn’t exist.” 

“Alright,” Dean’s brows were creased. 

“We want you to put a goddamn hole through Azazel’s head with it,” Crowley spoke up. 

Dean made to go forward, hand lifting toward the gun. 

“I’d be careful. The hand that giveth, can easily taketh away.” Famine’s sharp eyes followed the wanted man. 

Dean huffed. “Yes, we getteth.” 

Death turned his steely gaze to the other Horseman. 

Crowley sighed. “The other two won’t admit it, but all of us Horseman are sick of the bastard. Him and his Knights of Hell.” 

“Okay,” Dean tread lightly. “We kill him, take him off the board. That simple?” 

“Not so fast,” Tessa cut in. “You cut off the head of the snake and one more grows in its place.” 

“I thought it was three?” Cas blurted. 

Tessa glanced at him before her eyes returned to Dean. “Azazel does have a brother. Inevitably they’d both need to be taken out to kill this snake.” 

Dean shutters. “I am not going near that bastard ever again. I had enough of him overseas.” 

This piqued Cas’s interest. It was supposedly while Dean was serving did his criminal activity start. 

“All of us have had enough of him.  _ Especially  _ when he was overseas,” Crowley growled. 

“Someone else can take care of him for all I give a shit.” Dean moved forward, picking up The Colt. “But Azazel? I’ll put one between his fucking yellow eyes for everyone.” 

“Do be careful on the topic of the vampire Gordon. He’s caught your trail.” Death tapped his cane on the hardwood. “But, I believe that Alastair will not stay dormant long.” 

 

Even the hair on the back of Castiel’s neck started to raise at the name. All of it was starting to make his blood run cold. 


	9. 8. Jukebox Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was aching from the inside since Stanford. Hurting since they left Cold Oak. Bleeding since he stepped foot on American soil once again. Burning since the moment everything went to shit overseas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO sorry this took so long. As a heads up, I’m kinda hella busy. But yay! I finally get something up :D  
>  Hope you all enjoy!

 

It was well past midnight when Dean cut the Impala’s engine in the blackness of the scrapyard. The moment Cas steps out of the car, the cold hits him like a brick wall. Reminding him to wake the fuck up, maybe rethink some of his choices. 

“C’mon,” Dean’s voice is soft and light. In the moonlight, he looks like just another man. Some stranger that Cas could run into at a bar (besides the fact he practically had) and not think twice about. Some man with a family and friends. Though this stranger looked tired and worn like a machine desperately needing to be oiled. Even in the natural night lighting, Castiel could make out the bruises around Dean’s eye. He did get the shit beaten out of him so Castiel didn’t have to.  _ Before  _ Cas nutted up and stepped in. 

So like any normal person, Cas blindly followed the man to the back porch. Rumsfeld was curled up next to the door, lifting his head as the two men approached. What had been stone cold eyes were now a warm liquid brown as the large dog let out a soft whine. 

Dean looked down at the dog. His cut lip curled at the ends as he opened the door. “Go on in, just don’t tell Bobby that  _ I  _ did it. Between you and me, it’s Sam with the bleeding heart.” He gave the dog a wink as it scurried inside. The only light on in the house was the kitchen. Neither said a word as they shed their coats and boots. Rumsfeld shook out his coat before padding into the study. Castiel watched the rottweiler warily. 

“You want the couch?” Dean’s whisper almost made him jump. 

Castiel eyed the thing, before scoping the room again. “No thank you,” he finally concluded. 

“Suit yourself.” Dean shrugged, throwing an old quilt and pillow onto it. He did the same, tossing a sleeping bag along with the items onto the floor. 

Cas dropped down onto the chair feeling exhausted. After Dean turned off the lights, he let his eyes adjust. Even though the dive back to the salvage yard had been hours of sitting, he was a bone-deep kind of tired. He was not planning to sleep in this spot but just needed a moment. 

Lights from the sky and the yard shone through the large window above the couch. It outlined Dean’s form in a mystic glow after he dropped to the cushions. No matter how poor the lighting, Cas still caught the wince. 

Rumsfeld nosed at Dean’s elbow, trying to paw his way up too. “Not tonight, Rum.” Dean groaned. Dejectedly, the dog sulked into a position by Dean’s feet. 

Then the room was bathed in a dark quite. 

The cushions squeaked as Dean attempted to find a position that didn’t hurt as bad as all the others.  With a sigh, it seemed he had settled for one. 

The silence was back again. Deen stared at the ceiling, and Cas watched him carefully. 

“Dean-” but the other man had started to speak at the same time. 

“Y-you do know you can leave at any time, right?” The question stunned Castiel. Dean took the lack of a response as a negatory. “I’m not… I just... No matter what anyone says… I’d  _ never _ make you stay. You wanna leave, that’s you.” 

“Dean-” 

“I’d prefer you tell one of us, we could work something out. I could line up a few of the favors I’m owed for people to make sure Pestilence and his Leviathans can’t hurt you. I just… I mean Roman’s fucking lackeys probably already found out at the very least where you live.” 

“ _ Dean _ -” 

“I just can’t stand the thought of you thinking you  _ have  _ to stay… and the last thing I want is for those bastards to get to you too.” Dean was running his hands over his head. 

The ‘ _ Dean, I know’  _ died on Castiel’s lips. Because apparently, he didn’t know. 

Following another abandoned response, Dean turned his head. His eyes shined in the low lighting conveying the pain and truth behind his words. Cas could see it all now. Even though he couldn’t see the vibrant green of Dean’s eyes, he could see into this man’s very soul. He was aching from the inside since Stanford - maybe long before that. Hurting since they left Cold Oak. Bleeding since he stepped foot on American soil once again - only after being accused of killing his own unit. Burning since the moment everything went to shit overseas, whatever that had been. 

Castiel remembers clearly Dean’s reaction to the name of Azazel Nomed’s brother. The one name he’s only heard once, but many called a demon. “What did Alistair do to you?” He breathed the question with a hitch. The back of his eyes burned - for a criminal no less- but held the emotions at bay. 

Cas could see it. Dean returning to hell and the fire and the  _ burning _ and  _ damning _ . One of Dean’s eyes was puffed and swollen. Another instance where Dean Winchester was just a man. 

Dean was the one who didn’t answer this time. He breathed out softly, pulling a second quilt on top of himself. 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in the dark. He was learning more about this man than the Bureau could ever say. “You… you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” 

There was a point in time that Cas would have agreed. Now, he wasn’t so sure. 

The room was quiet for minutes, maybe hours. Castiel opened his mouth - to say what, he didn’t have a clue. Though, Dean already seemed to be asleep, an arm protectively around his ribs. 

With a soft sigh, Cas adjusted the sleeping bag on the floor. He fought with the pillow and blankets until he was finally comfortable. Or, rather, as much as he could be. Time passed slowly as he tried to make his mind settle so he could finally drift off. It was as he accomplished this, another warm body snuggle up to him.  Rumsfeld unabashedly stuck his nose into Castiel’s side. Once he seemed content, his snores filled the room. Castiel was left to feel as if he was the only one awake in the world during these early pre-dawn hours. 

 

….

 

As he slowly woke the next day, Rumsfeld was still stubbornly glued to his side. Everything seemed silent before Castiel really listened. The sizzling of something in a frying pan wasn’t as important as the broken fight the brothers were having. Dean’s nest on the couch was long abandoned, and the clock on the wall annoyingly ticked at 12:32. Cas sat up, rubbing at his eyes. 

“I don’t understand how you think I  _ shouldn’t  _ be involved. You’re talking about the  _ fucking monster _ that killed Mom and Jess!” 

“That is  _ exactly  _ why I don’t involve you, Sam. You got out, damnit. You should have stayed out.” 

“Thanks, Dad, I didn’t notice.” Sam’s hiss still reached Castiel through the floorboards. 

 

“You awake enough to eat?” Bobby’s voice startled Cas. 

The agent stood, wandering the short distance to the kitchen where Bobby was setting a few plates on the table. 

“How long have they been going at it?” Cas wondered after a particularly loud stomp. 

“Little under a half hour. Sam started grilling his brother on your adventures last night. Kinda expected you to be up before this.” 

“I’ve slept through worse.” 

“I bet.” 

“ _ Son of a  _ bitch!” There was pain laced in the strained voice. 

“Shit! Dean? Dean!” 

The heavy clank of Dean’s boots stomped all the way to the stairs and down. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he muttered. The shiner from last night was pretty impressive, but Cas noticed quickly Dean’s right hand in a fist. He tucked the arm protectively to his midsection as he fumed towards the back door. His free hand clamped over his forearm. 

“Dean,” Bobby called after him. 

“Need some air,” the Winchester breathed through clenched teeth. 

 

Sam came downstairs a few minutes later. Cas was polishing off his plate. Sam’s floppy hair was messed up from his fingers still pushing through the strands. A different type of sorrow and pain filled the younger man’s glassy eyes. 

Bobby glanced over, “the mark?” 

Castiel had no clue what it meant. Deep down he knew it involved Dean and was far from good. 

Sam’s answer wasn’t a nod or words. The look in his eyes added more turmoil while his lips managed to create an even flatter line than they had been before. 

Bobby huffed, returning to fixing up the plates. 

…

 

He was staring up lazily at the ceiling of Bobby’s study. Dean had bedded down on the couch again. Cas had thought the reasoning lined entirely along with the fight the brothers had earlier the previous day. Though, it seemed that Dean didn’t want to leave Cas. Neither did Rumsfeld. 

Sleep wasn’t along the horizon like the sun would be in a few hours. Events from the past week floated in his head. They painted themselves in words and colors within Castiel’s head like the play by play for a movie that he’d only ever see. His father had explained it like that once. How the words on the pages of his journal had gotten there. How they looked to the great writer, C. E. Novak. 

With that, Cas got up. Rumsfeld huffed half awake before curling into the spot Cas had been occupying. Castiel dug through his duffle to find the leathered book. Now having what he wanted, he sat down at Bobby’s desk. It felt strange in several ways for a moment. He flicked on the small table lamp, feeling much like his old man. Then again, this wasn’t his own place. None of these things were his beside whatever fit in the bag. He didn’t belong here, not really. Castiel had taken an oath to serve and protect years ago. None of that involved running around with a criminal and his brother. He was also supposed to not like said criminal. 

Cas glanced up into the shadows of the room. Dean shifted on the couch in his sleep. His left hand rubbing over his forearm. The criminal's words bounced in the Agent’s skull. Code words that seemed to fit in fantasy. 

The words stared up at him from the lines of the page. Unlike the story, Castiel doubted that Dean was innocent. No one ever was. 

No one would ever see it. Not his work. Not the last of his father’s. 

So he wrote.

 

_ C. J. Novak _

Filling the next pages, there was a man by the last name of Harrison. Unlike what his father had mapped out, Castiel was unsure of the man’s claimed innocents. He surely didn’t seem faultless. Mr.Harrison didn’t seem to see himself that way either. There were monsters,  _ supernatural _ . Demons, ghosts, vampires, black dogs, evil that haunted every corner. There was an appreciation for a 67’ Mustang that had meant so much to the Harrison family. Very certainly, there was family - which meant everything. 

He wrote about physics guiding Harrison’s way. A sidekick that seemed alien to the life of the….  _ hunter _ . 

Cas skipped, writing out the experiences. There were timelines, notes, and ideas jotted down. 

 

When he stepped back, the stars were beginning to fade. He’s sure his father would be upset that he changed the plot, but Cas could only smile. It still needed work - but that was the point. It was down on paper so he’d never have to think of it again. 

….

Two days later he sighed exasperatedly from the card table set up in the living room. He’d been so caught up in all the new shit he’d been dragged into, he forgot that Christmas was so soon. Now, it was right on top of them. Dean was blasting some Foreigner song as he and his brother squabbled about the thin tree they were setting up. Whatever had been wrong with the elder Winchester’s arm seemed to be gone. One of them thought it was a bright idea to cut down a tree to decorate. 

 

_ He couldn’t get a ticket  _

_ It was a sold out show  _

_ Heard the roar of the crowd  _

_ He could picture the scene _

 

Castiel wanted to laugh. He was certainly getting a show. Dean and Sam were back to playfull bittering. Meanwhile, Rumsfeld had stolen one of the branches from the tree and was gnawing on it in the hallway. 

Bobby was muttering something under his breath, trying to pay more attention to his mug of coffee (that was probably spiked) than the brothers. The wind howled outside as grey clouds dumped more snow onto half of the state of South Dakota. 

 

_ He was a jukebox hero _

_ With stars in his eyes _

 

There were a few hats hanging around the place. Cas had no idea where the two Santa hats had come from, and he wasn’t about to ask. The brothers were having a back and forth about popcorn vs. licorice. Dean was placing empty shell casings on the tree while Sam detangled lights. What movie would be watched first, there was the few DVD’s, but no, there was a John Wayne and Clint Eastwood marathon on what channels. 

Cas had a short conversation with Gabriel over the phone. All was seeming to be well with the world so far. Minus the quieting argument from the other side of the room. No one complained when Bobby stepped in to choose what they would watch. At some point, Dean had stuck a bow to Sam’s head and thrown Rumsfeld a new bone. The older Winchester was even stealing some of his brother’s popcorn only to throw it at him. Two giant toddlers shared the couch while Bobby and Cas played it safe and took the chairs. 

It was during a commercial break for “A Christmas Story” did the presents come out. Rumsfeld had managed to demolish half his rawhide already. Dean handed Sam shampoo and conditioner, nearly getting shoved off the couch in the process. Bobby gifted him some book. Dean handed his uncle a flask and shoelaces as Sam handed the older man a hat. 

“I wanted to put B.S. on one of these, but Sam wouldn’t let me.” 

“Good thing he did, you idjit,” Bobby grumbled before laughing. 

Cas had spaced off during most of this, not foreseeing anything but awkwardness. Though he couldn’t help but watch as Sam and Bobby pulled out their gifts to Dean. 

Sam pulled a leather cord from around his neck. Cas only noticed the figure dangling from it before it was in Dean’s hand. “Think I’ve kept it safe for you long enough, jerk.” 

“Bitch,” came Dean’s reply through a wide grin. He slipped the cord around his neck proudly. He slung an arm over his brother’s shoulders, pulling Sam to him. It didn’t start as an embrace but soon did. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” Sam whispered. 

Cas almost didn’t hear him Dean’s response. “I am too.” 

When they pulled away they smiled like kids having their first Christmas. Cas supposed that this was, the first in a long time. Between Dean being brought back -hurt no less- and trials that had been leading up to be his condemning and damnation. 

Right now, Cas couldn’t see that in this man. Kill his own brothers in arms? He hadn’t even hit Sam the other day when they were arguing. At the very least, that may be the only charge against Dean where he was innocent.  

“Well, if we’re gonna play out the chick flick, I got somethin’ I need to get off my chest.” Bobby stood from his chair. He walked out of the room and didn’t come back for several moments. When he finally came back, he stood before Dean, fingers curled around something metallic. It still clicked against itself, even in Bobby’s hand. 

Dean froze, seeming to know instantly what it was. 

“Don’t ever do this to me again,” the older man’s voice waivered where it was intended to sound hardened. Fingers uncurled to reveal the dog tags. They were warped and some of the words looked flattened. 

Dean’s hand trembled as he picked up the tags. He rose, throwing his arms around Bobby. It was heartwarming and hurt all at once for Castiel to watch this. The movie had long since come back on, and the moment was interrupted by the racket of the bloodhounds causing Rumsfeld to howl. The two returned to their respective seats. Cas looked away for the moment. This was already turning out to be so much different than what he expected. 

That was until Dean started tapping his shoulder, setting a new leather bound journal in his lap. Now he had no clue what to think. 

Castiel inspected the wing design, moving the straps out of the way. After, he rose confused eyes to the elder Winchester. 

“Thought you might like it. I saw you have one already…” Dean seemed like he had more to say, but let his words trail off. 

Cas smiled. “I suppose that means I didn’t get these without reason,” Cas pulled a bag of M&M’s and more licorice from the sack. He’d gone to the store with Sam earlier, trying to get a few more things for himself. 

“Sweet!” 

Sam mockingly gagged. 

“Knock off the flirt fest before one of us upchucks,” Bobby said. 

Sam made a point to pelt Dean with unpopped kernels. 

“Merry Christmas ya’ filthy animals.” 

“That’s not even the right movie, Dean,” Sam complained heartily. 

“Alright, Grinch.” 

 

Cas couldn’t help but smile. Later that night he’d write in his father’s journal. He decided he’d wait to use the new one. He wrote about two brothers finally being able to celebrate with what family they had. Just for that night, Mr.Harrison had no faults whatsoever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so some of you may be confused on what’s going on and how this all might be unfolding.   
>  I went to a writing workshop a while ago where my instructor told the group not to hide anything from the readers (Yes, yes, I know). That as the author you tell the reader as much as the character knows.   
>  On that note, even though I have it set strictly in 3rd person, the narrative is limited to Castiel. So, following that, as Cas figures out what's going on and how to navigate this world he’d been thrown headfirst into - all of you basically are too. 
> 
> I purposefully have the story set to follow Cas because he doesn’t know squat about Dean’s world/profession. Even if I had set this in 3r omniscient it wouldn’t be as interesting. If we could look into Dean’s head than half these chapters would have been pointless. We’d know all the answers Cas is trying to find out. Yes, that’s what you want, isn’t it? Buuuuut this is a story of Castile stumbling across the one man the FBI can’t pin, and discovering his innocence or guilt.   
> I hoped this helps ;)


	10. 9. Smoke on the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something itched beneath his skin. Charged lightning buzzing inside his very being. It was a feeling he got often when on a case. Normally right before something went sideways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I’m being honest, school is kinda kicking my ass. I wanted to have this up a few days ago... but I honestly couldn’t even get halfway through this chapter. The plot was a bitch to work around, but it’s always really satisfying when it all clicks together.
> 
> Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy!

 

 

December slipped away, and the new year along with it. They stayed at Bobby’s until early February. The brothers got in squabbles that never turned into fights until they were out of the room. One such was when Sam finally broke on the hard subject that was their father. 

In which Dean’s response was: “He’s on a hunting trip.” 

That hunting trip extended the longer they stayed at Bobby’s. Then it turned into “he hasn’t been home in a few days,” when the man neglected to answer his phone. 

All Bobby ever did was grumble and shake his head. 

 

Castiel still called in himself, or would be interrupted by a work call. Those over the phone “meetings” became less and less between him and Zachariah. Another colleague, Hanna, was more likely to pick up than their boss. Wither her, it was easier to tell something much closer to the truth. He was still safe, hiding out. No bad guys could get to him. Hanna had been happy to hear as much. Roman’s men were still hyperactive, still searching for something.

 

Cas was dozing on the couch when the call came in. Bobby and Sam were just pulling back up to the house from a supply run. The buzzing of guitars that woke him up stopped when Dean answered. Castiel’s stayed silent on the coffee table. 

“Winchester,” he greeted. “Whoa, hold up. You gotta slow down. She did what now?” He was on his feet, pacing toward the kitchen. 

Cas furrowed his brows, unable to hear the voice on the other side of the line. 

“No, I haven’t seen her. Just give the girl a day or two. Not like this is the first time this has happened… or the hundredth. She needs time to cool down. We’ll keep an eye out for her.” 

Whatever the other person was saying, it made Dean tense up. 

“Really, Pam said that?” He glanced back, meeting Cas’s eyes. “I’m getting a little stir crazy, we could do with a road trip.” 

Bobby and Sam started lugging in plastic bags. 

“Yeah, yeah. Anytime. Bobby said to give you his love.” 

The older man leveled the Winchester with a glare. “Now who in the blazes are you sayin’ that to?” 

Dean tucks the phone into his pocket. “Your wife. Jo ran off.” 

Bobby grunted while Sam punctuates, “again?” 

“Yeah, said Pam called her last night about a bad feeling.” 

“What are we waiting for?” Sam pushes a sack across the back counter. “I think I have a good idea where she might be.” 

“Guess nothing.” 

…. 

 

There wasn’t much to the six hours of constant road and classic rock. Except when one song came on, Dean turned it up. Cas recognized the thrum of guitars, at first thinking that Dean was getting an incoming call. 

“ _ Smoke, on the water! Fire in the sky, _ ” 

Sam rolled his eyes before turning the blast down. 

“What was it that Pam got Ellen all riled up about?” 

“Uh, well-” 

“ _ Dean _ .” Sam pushed the off for the radio. “What the hell could Pam say that’d get Ellen that worried?” 

“Something about a Vamp picking up Jo’s scent. Kid hasn’t done anything.” 

There was a heavy statement left unsaid. Something along the lines of someone abusing power. The agent had no clue what any of this entailed. Though, he did know this felt personal. 

Dean pulled up to a motel before they hit town. 

“Dean-” Sam tried to protest. 

“Jo’s a big girl, she can hold her own.” Dean’s jaw was tense. He was trying to act as calm and collected- the kind they all needed. The driver’s door closed with a solid thunk. It passed through Castiel’s mind that the elder Winchester looked a little worn and ragged from the long winter. Maybe even from something more. 

This left Sam and Cas to gather the bags before Dean returned with the room key. They didn’t stay long, only claiming where they’d sleep. Just like almost every time before Sam and Cas got the beds while Dean took the couch. 

Then they were piling back into the Impala, planning to search the town. Dean had figured that crowds would be their friend. “Not much a Vamp can do in the daylight.” 

By now Castiel had to stop questioning the codes. If he hadn’t he’d surely have gone off his rocker by now. 

The ride into town should have been longer. Then again Dean Winchester was well known for having a lead foot. Besides the fact that his “Baby” could go really fucking fast if he wanted to. 

Sam was the one to break the silence. “It’s him, isn’t it?” 

Dean kept his eyes on the road as the car slowed for a stop sign. A woman pushed a stroller in front of them. A younger kid ran around her and the man wrapping an arm around her waist. 

Jaw tense, Sam turned the radio off. “ _ Damnit _ , Dean.” 

“You’re complaining about it now?” Dean’s voice was weighed down, more strained than it had been earlier. 

“You just can’t stop, can you? Is this a fucking game, Dean? A pissing contest between you and  _ Gordon  _ friggin’  _ Walker _ ?” 

“Why is it a problem  _ now _ ?” Dean gritted his teeth. They were still at the stop sign. 

“I dunno Dean. Maybe it’s because you left that fact out! We could have called someone else. Sent Caleb after her. Someone other than  _ you _ . We’re walking right into his trap, and I don’t wanna watch this turn out like last time.” 

Someone honked behind them. Dean’s knuckles were white against the dark leather of the steering wheel. 

“I’m calling Caleb-” 

“What was I supposed to fucking do, Sam? Let someone else clean up my mess? Let someone else get in Gordon’s way and end up hurt,  _ again _ ?” He surged to the side. Instead of hitting his brother, Dean opened the passenger door.  “I can’t promise you what’ll happen. But if you don’t wanna watch, then get out.” 

The car behind them gave up and went around. 

Sam, still seething, glared at his brother. With a defiant huff, he climbed out and walked off. 

Dean still waited, motioning for Cas to move up. Cas hardly had the door shut before the Impala was in motion again. The driver’s eye twitched in a movement to conceal pain. From the short time Cas had been with this man, it meant his head hurt. Castiel supposed that had he been in the same position it might have been the same for him. Then again, the only person he truly had left was Gabriel. Hanna, Uriel, and even Victor were like family to him -along the lines as brother’s and sister’s in arms. 

“Vampires,” Cas thought out loud. 

“What?” Dean’s confusion was palpable at the suddenly changed topic. 

“Why vampires?” 

“Oh,” he didn’t answer for a long time. Instead, Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot along the town square. After turning off the engine, he finally faced Cas. “People like Gordon? They’re bloodsuckers. Come out of nowhere and latch onto scents. A bounty hunter who’s gone dark... got a taste for blood and couldn’t let go. Ones that go after people who’ve done more than skipping out on bail or parole.” He pocketed the keys, reaching for the handle. “With the right price, they’re easily swayed.” 

“Now Sam’s out there alone.” 

“Gordon may be a short-sighted man, but he ain’t dumb. He knows better. Black Dogs already caught a whiff of pretty-boy, Sammy. He shows back up to Stanford with even the tiniest scratch from foul play and those bastards will be after the Vamp too. Some of those pack- teams, really like to throw around obstruction of justice when it comes to the matter of lil’ ol’ me.” 

They stepped out, scanning the people milling around town. At the heart of the square was a fountain. Young kids ran back and forth from the water to their parents, begging for spare change. Dean flipped Cas a quarter. He turned it over in his hands as if it was something interesting. 

“C’mon Cas, it ain’t gonna bite you.” Dean chuckled while knocking Cas with his shoulder. He pulled out another coin tossing it into the air and catching it. 

Cas rubbed his own, warming the cool metal. He thought over several things he could wish for. Most of them were too distant, too impossible. Something not even a silly little wish could take care of. 

“Careful what you wish for, Cas.” He tossed the quarter in. 

Flipping his own into the water, he distantly wished to be able to understand the man beside him. 

“What’d you wish for?” 

“It’s bad luck to tell,” Cas shoved his hands into his pocket. “Though it probably won’t come true.” 

Dean huffed, a sad smile curling his very kissable lips. Cas had to shake his head. “Same here.” 

“What the  _ hell _ , Winchester.” 

Before Dean could completely turn, a smaller figure had wrapped her arms around him. 

“You were in town but decided not to fucking tell me? Were you even gonna say hi?” 

The curve to Dean’s lips was a full out grin now. “Good to see you too, Jo.” 

Jo’s blue eyes quickly sized Castiel up. “This your new boyfriend I’ve been hearing about along the grapevine? From everyone but  _ you _ ?” 

Cas opened his mouth to reply. 

Dean threw his arm around his shoulders, effectively shutting him up. “Yup! Cas here… I pulled him outta a shitshow. Just can’t seem to shake him off. Trust me, I’ve tried.” 

Cas swore he tasted whiskey on his tongue. 

Jo eyed him, before turning sharp eyes on Dean. “Mom sent you, didn’t she?” 

The Winchester sighed. “How about we get lunch?” 

The young woman went to snip a reply. 

Dean’s eyes roved over the open space around them. “We can talk more inside.” 

Her reaction was immediate. Her back straightened, hand hesitating over his arm. “Yeah, sounds good.” 

 

Jo knew most of the people working inside the diner she led the boys to. Cas noted how quickly the food seemed to find its way to the table. He also couldn’t miss how Dean positioned himself in the booth. They sat in a far corner. One where the ex-marine could see the entire diner. Cas wondered if it was the situation. He thought back to all the other places they’ve stopped at. Nearly every one Dean had done something like this. It made Cas itch, wanting to find out  _ why _ . 

So far Dean Winchester hadn’t shown his ability to be a killer. He seemed like a haunted man. Like he was running from his own personal demons. If he were to go far enough, push fast enough, he’d be able to leave them behind. 

Jo set her mug down. “Mom called again, and you came running,” 

“She was spooked. Pam had a vision that she told your mom about.” 

“Yeah, Pam already told me you’d be coming. And no one ever wants to believe that I can hold my own?” She crossed her arms. 

“I’m sure you could if ever given a chance. But maybe I don’t want you to, not this time.” 

The young woman squirmed in a petulant way, scraping some hash browns onto her fork. “How's Sam?” 

“Pissed off that I even came here. He probably trudged his way back to the motel by now.” 

Jo pushed her plate away. “Really, Dean?” She searched the man’s eyes. “Why do you have to be so stupid? Why does everything have to be your responsibility? It’s bad enough that Pam said something about you tugging along a Familiar.” Her eyes suddenly cut to Cas. “No. Dean, you’re dumb… but tell me you aren’t stupid.” 

Dean made a poor attempt to defend himself. He ended up looking like a fish out of water. 

“I’m basically a cat,” 

Dean laughed so abruptly he nearly knocked over his coffee. “Yeah, you are.” 

Jo’s lips formed a thin line as she thought this over. She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but less likely to bitch about the situation. 

Even with the way Dean was smiling at him, Cas was still wanting to know what the fuck Familiar meant. 

….

They had spent a while with Jo before she had to go into work. So the two showed up close to closing time. Cas closed the passenger door, taking in the sight of the now empty parking lot. It was some local nameless bar with as much life to it as the frozen Lake Superior lapping lazily at the docks behind it. The coolness to the air created a thin fog above the water. It looked like wisps of smoke.  It reminded Castiel of Michigan. 

Dean coughed into his elbow, trying to clear his throat. 

“You good?” 

“Just this cold shit. I hate winter.” 

Cas shrugged. “Spring is soon.” 

“I fucking hope so,” 

They made their way toward the door. “Anything from Sam?” Not that Castiel was best friends with the criminal’s brother, but something itched beneath his skin. Charged lightning buzzing inside his very being. It was a feeling he got often when on a case. Normally right before something went sideways. 

“Not much-” 

“But he’s here,” The younger Winchester’s voice was not as deep compared to his older sibling, but it was very recognizable. 

The brothers stared at each other for several moments. All the while Cas shifted nervously as a silent conversation -maybe even an argument- was had. 

“You done sulking, bitch?” Dean cocked a brow. 

Sam huffed, his breath clouded into the air. “You’re a jerk.” 

This made the elder Winchester smile. 

“Then let's get inside before you freeze.” Dean knocked on the door before opening it. “Joanna Beth! Cavalry has arrived!” 

“Call me that  _ one _ more time Dean, and I’ll be the one to fucking kill you.” She snapped the towel she’d been rubbing the counter down with onto the bar. 

Sam snickered openly while Cas had the decency to muffle his own amusement. 

Jo’s sharp eyes cut to Castiel before returning to the brothers. 

Sam didn’t miss the exchange. “So you found out too?” 

“Yeah,” she returned to wiping down the bar, setting bottles away. 

“I’m assuming you didn’t take it well?” 

“I’m coping. Your brother seems to be a competent adult making his own decision.” 

Dean grinned. “Thanks-” 

“He’s also being a goddamned  _ dumbass _ .” 

“Hey-” Dean tried to interject. 

“Hey, Sam, shut the front lights off, will you?” Jo ignored the elder Winchester. 

Sam did as told, bringing the front of the bar into darkness. Meanwhile, the lights in the back helped light most of the room. 

Not too long after, there was the rumble of an engine outside. It was much too close for comfort. The bar was closed. The lot had been empty, leaving no logical reason for anyone else showing up. Any other time Castiel would have sworn himself to be paranoid. The electricity under his skin kicked up a few volts. Sam took two long strides to the window, pulling apart a section of the blinds. Dean was next to him before Castiel could blink properly. Both brothers tensed. 

“You take Jo. We’ll all go out the back way then separate.” Dean nodded to himself. 

“What’s happening?” Castiel was ignored. 

Jo stopped her clean up to stand next to him. 

“What? Dean no.” Sam refused. 

“Sam,  _ yes _ . It’ll be fucking harder for him to find any of us if there's only two. Four people sneaking around behind here or on the docks is kinda hard to hide.” 

“He’s right,” Jo and Cas agreed. They gave each other a surprised look. 

Sam only snarled at them. “I’m not-” 

“Yeah, you are.” Dean patted his little brother on the chest. “You got this. I trust you to keep Jo safe. I gotta watch Cas.” 

Of all the times Castiel could have made comments about baby sitters and knowing how to handle a gun; this wasn’t one of them. 

Suddenly Dean gripped a gentle hand around Cas’s arm. They went out the back way in an anxious quiet. The brothers offered each other a nod before they went separate ways for the second time that day. Cas tugged at the sleeves of his jacket before Dean set something cool and metalic in her palm. 

Troubled blue eyes lifted to gaze into the green. 

“Extra room and Baby key. Can never be too careful.” 

“You shouldn’t have to say that,” Cas muttered beneath his breath. 

“What’d you say?” 

“Nothing.” 

No one should have to say that in such a way. With so much negative connotation and context. With such sadness and resignation to the possibility of not making it back. Of letting these bastards win. 

So they kept moving under the silver lighting of a gibbous waxing. Dean didn’t question Castiel as they hid behind crates. They both jerked back when they heard the Bar door bust open. 

“He should be in there now,” Dean whispered. “We can still go the long way around.” 

This time of year not many boats resided within the frigid waters of the lake. Cas was the first on to fully step toward the edge, not hidden by anything. 

“Somethings still not right,” Dean murmured. 

Castiel still had the supercharged feeling, but he was more willing to hope it went away than admit out loud. 

“We should-” 

The click of a gun’s hammer echoed through the night. 

“Cas!” 

It happened within the blink of an eye. 

Rough hands pushed him out of the way. His body tipped over the edge as the gunshot rang out. There was a splash and he was swallowing the water that surrounded him. Another happened further away. 

His mind was already sluggish as he tried to figure out what fucking way was up. 

The only think Cas was sure of at the moment was that the water was  _ cold _ . 

 

It kinda reminded him of Michigan. 


End file.
